The Teacher

I had this teacher once... He stroked chalk like it was sex.

I remember how he wrapped his hands around my own and curled my fingers.

He said that it showed passion. He made me kiss my hands and lick the sugar away. He said

that it was love. I said it was sickening. So then, he took my hands so I could grip and slide with

motion. He liked that. He kissed my forehead and told me how great I was. His enjoyment. Dusty

crystals glided to the floor as it snapped into two. He said ((groaned)) bliss. I slapped away the sparkles

and stroked it like (sex). I guess it was this time.

...And then I ask him. Teacher..., why are you smiling? I'm only learning.

A/N:

I'm not to fond over this one. It came out different, then one I had planned for. ahh... oh well. It's stays, I think.