How You See Me

I think about perspectives sometimes, babe. How two people can be looking at the same thing but seeing it entirely differently… one catching only the edges, the other seeing all the details. How the light shifts, how the angles change, how things can be both a dream and a certainty at the same time.

And sometimes I wonder, babe, how much you see while we're on those walks together…

Oh, I know you see me. I think you've been doing that for as long as we've known each other. I know you see both me and mine… you mighta gotten steamrolled, but I heard it when you hit that nail straight on the head about the kid feeling safe.

But, I mean. See me. With your eyes.

Do you see me glancing over at you from time to time? I know sometimes our eyes meet… god, I live for those moments… but do you catch it, when I look when you're not looking?

Do you feel that my eyes don't always land quite where they're supposed to?

Feel how, even walking abreast, your body calls out to me, to my eyes, to my hands… and sometimes I just can't help myself, my gaze traveling down… speaking of breasts… that ass that looks fucking fantastic from any angle… your legs…

I wonder if you see it, when we're approaching something that might get my dog agitated… do you see me, wrapping the leather around my hand, affording me better control?

Do you have to stop yourself from biting your lip when that happens?

Huh. I do wonder.

And I know I make little involuntary sounds sometimes… do you hear my “hm” as she starts pulling, and the leather tightens around my grip?

Does it awaken anything within you when that happens?

And the words I speak to her when she finally heeds her “leave it” command… Do you imagine me saying them… to you?

Hm.

I really do wonder.

Because, ngl, baby. We could. I would.

And will.

Yours.

PS — Hope you have fun… Watch out for those deep puddles!