Some people think we don’t belong together, but they don’t know us. Not really. They don’t know me.

Our arms are linked, you are held close to my side, your fingers curling into the hair at the nape of my neck. You whisper things in my ear, and I feel a delicious tingle at the base of my spine… Yet your eyes stray, and all at once you’re no longer talking about him, the other half of my half. You wink at those strangers as we pass by and they turn and look. I almost feel you move off, your hand releasing it’s pressure but my arm moves quicker, hugging you into me. You can pout, but it does no good. I frown, and grin and give a nearly regretful shake of the head, which makes you laugh, and already you’ve forgotten the candy that caught your eye. This is a game you can’t help playing, a cat with string. Every bit of movement makes you want to pounce.

You can’t have every bit however, he makes us happy. Really happy, and we both know it, and for that, sometimes we need to stay still. So play nice.