Kinds of Words

He stares at the ceiling

And describes something smooth,

A tint that he likes,

A shade that will cue

A reaction—he describes—

As calling for his touch,

I look at his face

When his cheeks start to blush,

A flush washes over,

I can tell that he’s thought

About this, about her,

About them, and I’m not

Mad, I’m just sad

That I’ve never heard

Him talk about me

Using these kinds of words.