am i under your skin yet?

eyes squeezed shut. tight. you and me and covers in-between. one arm, your arm, draped over me. another blanket to keep me warm. a book in my hands, your whispers in my ear. "come to bed," come to bed, come to bed. my heart pounding louder with each turn of a page. eyes darting back and forth and reading, trying to keep you out of my mind. engrossed in the layers of paper held so delicately between my fingertips. you, you who is coaxing me, trying trying to bring me to kiss you. sometimes i want to. but it's not me, it's not my job, it's not you. my job is to read and think and be. a heartbreaker. i am a heartbreaker, i am your heartbreaker. your tick tock. ticking clock. i am the wide-eyed owl as you try to sleep, i'm too busy with my nose in a book. sometimes i want to kiss your nose, eskimos, but mostly i'm too busy living that life out in books. it is there that i can open up and fall in love and have a heart. i close the book and my pounding heart seems to silence. can i only have a heart between the covers of a book? between the covers of your bed is not enough, will never be enough, to convince me to open my lips towards you. i left my heart in another's bed, in another's covers. now the closest i get to finding it is within these stories. if you kiss me, you'll be just another story. i know you love it when i grin. am i under your skin yet?