Group-Study

Amidst the sound of papers turning,
The occasional groans from the girl in my room,
She sits beside me in bed,
A lock of hair messily strewn in front of her right eye,
She brushes it impatiently behind her ear,
Looking down the same book as me,
Each time I feel her hand rub against mine,
Her skin on mine,
Like a zap of electricity,
It sends a tingle down my spine.

This was a bad idea,
Me calling her over the night before the big tests,
All of my concentration,
It’s on her,
She takes up all my focus,
I can’t stop myself from stealing glances in her direction,
Her determined gaze, which isn’t for me,
And the way her antsy fingers play with her hair,
Nervously twirling them around her finger,
Even while anxious, she’s such a pretty sight to behold.

I grow restless,
Much as I try to divert my attention from her,
The sound of her talking to herself,
Brooding in a low voice,
Like a whisper,
I follow every movement of her lips as she mouths out words to herself,
Enunciating in such an enticing manner,
She’s captivated me again.

The open book which lay in front of us,
It seems so humongous.
The clock marches on unsparingly,
My eyes grow heavier,
With only 8 hours to go,
And 18 lessons to go through,
Maybe I should just go to sleep,
It seems pointless anyway,
I procrastinated way too much,
It’s too late now.

Flipping page after page,
The end never comes,
Outside my window,
It grows darker,
And the world falls silent,
Me and her,
It’s as though we’re the only ones up in this odd hour,
Exhaustion is evident on her face too,
She was already done with her prep by this point,
And her eyes barely manage to stay open any longer.

But I still had a lot more to go through,
As weary as I was getting,
Knowing her obstinate self,
I knew she wouldn’t give up on me,
I meekly float in the idea that maybe we ought to give up,
To just call it a day and leave tomorrow up to fate.

As response,
I was only met with a cold stare,
Something which I was expecting,
I know how determined she could be.
Refusing in a disdainful tone,
She insisted there’s some way we could keep each other motivated,
I could be mistaken,
But there was a subtle twinkle in her blue eyes as she said this,
And her lips were twisted in a half smile.

The night progressed on,
She guided me through each chapter,
Helped me make mental notes,
Questioning me every now and again,
Going through each concept with me meticulously.
And towards the conclusion of each lesson,
She pulled me by the collar,
Sharply into her,
Kissing me firmly,
She held me that way for a good five minutes,
It caught me off-guard,
But also sparked a renewed determination.
At the end of each lesson,
If I got her pop quiz right,
Piece by piece,
She would begin disrobing herself,
This way,
She kept me wide awake,
Eager to burn through the rest of the book.

With every word I read,
Every sentence and every line,
I feel her breath over my shoulder,
Whether intentional or not,
Her exposed shoulder keeps faintly grazing mine.
She sternly pushes me away when I kiss that cheek of hers,
Resolute in her resolve,
She insists on me burning the midnight oil.
Looking at me with that gaze of hers,
She just sits there watching me rush through the pages.

Like a child lured at the sight of candy,
She strung me along too,
Using her love and masking it as bait,
She made me lustful for knowledge,
While the clock ticks steadily on,
I finally closed the book with about an hour to spare,
Only the solitary hour to celebrate.

On all fours,
From the other side of the bed,
She crept slowly towards me,
With nothing left to imagination,
She’s just a breath away from me,
Snatching the book deftly with one hand,
She flung it across the room,
And before pinning me against the mattress,
She whispered,
‘Let’s not review just this once.’.

Advertisements

9 thoughts on “Group-Study

Add yours

  1. I loved the whole thing, that you both were strong, how she teased in two directions.

    I saw some grammatical issues and the ends of lines that went too long for my tastes, for example, see what I mean here? That last sentence should have stopped at “long.” But, overall, the originality, the fact that it probably happened, that it’s not necessarily a good study method, but as a poem, it laughed at our voyeurism. It got the work done and teased us into getting to the end. We are jealous of your youth, it seems, and your craft.

    It’s almost perfect.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, I do agree with your criticism. I just have a habit of being verbose (not an excuse. I’m trying to work on it haha). And as for the grammatical errors, would you mind pointing them out so that I keep them in mind next time?
      Also, I’m really glad you liked it. Thank you very much for your supportive words ❤️❤️.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Sorry Sulaiman, I don’t have time for editing. I am terrible with grammar insofar as to why something is bothering me. I think it was “Looking down the same book as me,” for one. “As me” didn’t sound correct since the subject of looking down equalled your behaviors, not the book being the same as you. The book as you? Rather, you were both looking at the same book. I hope that makes sense. While editing, I had trouble with the word “Zap,” since it seems beam-like and quick rather than something that kept going while your skin remained touching.

        A quick, incomplete attempt at compression and tightness:

        Amid the sound of papers turning,
        The occasional groans from my girl in the room,
        She sits beside me.
        A lock of messy hair,
        She brushes impatiently.
        We look at the same book,
        Her skin on mine,
        Creating electricity.


        This was a bad idea,
        My calling her last night.
        She has my concentration.
        I steal glances toward her.
        
But, her focus isn’t me.
        
The way she plays with her hair,
        Nervously twirling,
        
How each strand curls around her fingers.
        
Even anxious, she’s a sight to behold.

        

I am restless.
        
Though I try to divert my attention.
        
Her voice is broodingly low as a whisper.

        She mouths words to herself,
Enunciating them with such effect

        That I am focused.
        

The book laying open
 seems huge.
        
The clock ticks.
        
My eyes grow heavy;

        Only eight hours left. 



        We have 18 lessons.
        
Maybe I should sleep.

        This seems pointless.
        
I have procrastinated.
        

It’s late.

        
I flip each page.
        
The end never comes.

        Outside the window is still and dark.

        She is exhausted.
        
Her eyes barely open.
        But, we have more to do.
        Knowing her obstinance,
        I doubt she’ll give up.

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: