You insult my maturity,
my intellect and insecurity.
don’t I always retort?

Arguments, one after another.
I come back for more,
seconds, thirds.

Weaving debates into
sparkling webs, made
of hurtful points or insights.

Making my trap only
more worth falling into,
continue. I am willing.

And yet, every time I do
I daydream about the depths
of your eyes, plotting.

I will avenge myself.
Your spell has not been
completely paralyzing.

When I do escape
the net that you have set,
We will return to our game.

So you’ll argue, and I’ll
defend myself. And flirt
shamelessly.

You’ll point out the obvious,
and I will challenge you.
“prove it.” and we begin.