If she hadn't. . .

If she hadn't starred into my eyes...
If she hadn't leaned on me...
If she hadn't played with my fingertips...
If she hadn't kissed me...

. . .I think I'd be okay. . .

. . .But I'm not okay. . .

Because she did stare into my eyes, even when she had a needle and ink jabbed into her hips a million times...

Because she did lean on me, even when she could have been more comfortable not to...

Because she did play with my finger tips, partially hidden by her waits...

Because I did kiss her, and she kissed me back... many times