I'm drawing little hearts

(Another one from the vault.)

I'm drawing little hearts into a mug that I've fogged up with my breath.
You're talking about hip-hop.

I turn my glass, 180 degrees in your direction.
I watch your eyes,hoping they'll flicker down and fix their gaze on my treasure of condensation graffiti.
You're still talking about hip-hop.

I glance around and notice that we're in a restaurant of couples,all of which are engaging in stares that radiate loving emotions.
Some are even holding hands.
It is at this point in time that I slowly slide my hand from under the safe recess of my armpit area, and slither it across the table, towards yours.
Waiting for your gestures of KRS-One to stop mid up-beat,and catch the drift of the five fingers wiggling towards your personal hand space.
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
Past my cutlery,cleverly avoiding the salt and pepper shakers,halting beside your plate,waiting,watching,hoping that your need for my hand in yours will overcome the need to flail your arms around about Mos Def.
Mos' definitely I just want you to look at me, smile at me, notice me.

But, you are still talking about hip-hop.

I stare at my hand as it slowly starts to slink back, wanting the safe retreat of my inner arm.
I look at you and marvel at how passionate you can be, then try to calm the now sinking feeling I have coursing through under my ribs and settling in my stomach.
I find my self hoping (and only for a brief moment.) that you'd talk about me with that much passion when I'm not around.

I think that if I were brave I would say:
"Look Lover, I just want you to make me feel like you think I'm the dopest thing to come out of the 80's , and that you would totally buy my mix tape if it were 26.99, because I am worth more than a download!"
If I were brave, I would say these things to you...

But...you are still talking about hip-hop.