Circles.

In circles,
your fingers swirl.
Round and round
on open skin.

Each touch electrifying me,
but resist I must.
My own sanity comes first here
and
you would drive me nuts.

Each impulse drives me towards you,
but realistically, of course, I pull back.
Guilt.
Need.
Inconsistency.
Want.
Ding-ding-ding, the high school day is over in 12 minutes.
You remove your hand.

It's so easy to say that
It's complicated.
Say something.