I Like To Write Random Stuff

I really don't understand what this is I feel
Like a dream I've had a thousand times
It still doesn't seem quite real
The taste of your confusion
Upon my wasted lips
The taste of love so innocent between my sprawled out hips
Dance there;
I dare you.
For you cannot dare me.
I've stacked too many favors
Upon my kneeling knee.
And to ask you to love, is to ask
What I cannot.
I need you in the presence,
But I need you more in thought.