the Bitter Truth

I hear keys at the door and meet you as you walk in.

“How was it I ask?” Smiling as I question.

“Great.” You expound recounting the dancing of your friends. The songs that played. The drinks drunk and the men that were teased. “They flirted and they flaunted.” You laugh cruelly at their worst intentions “they wished they could have me but if course they could not.” Kissing me on the cheek.

You smell of cigarettes, perfume and cologne. Not one scent yours. Not one scent mine.

“How was your night out with the boys” you return the favor of suspicion.

“Too short. Too fun.” I muse. I recount the delightful waitress in her low cut flirty top. Her smile and bright eyes which wondered over me roughly. “But I’m not for her,” I conclude “I’m yours and yours alone.”

You lean in and kiss me again noting a shade of lipstick that you don’t own in a place you rarely linger.

“Poor girl” you laugh at her expense, “trying to obtain what could never be hers.”

We slide into bed together. Sharing the comfort of a quiet night.

We embrace and extol our love for the other

….as we dream ravenously of another.


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