Pulling off your panties in the half-light of an in-town, street-side room, I find you more beautiful when compared to the night before; your naked body shining with moonlight and neon and your lips curving into that knowing, tempting half-smile. When I pull you under the sheets with me, and tell myself I love you, I forget that you're not the woman I married six years ago, and with whom I became dissatisfied, and who got a divorce and alimony and the children. I forget that I ever was married, and I'm in high school again, losing my virginity in the back of a car at age eighteen, the night of graduation; I forget the abortion. I forget alot, and I feel you, and the lights, and the rough sheets, and I feel your hands and your breasts and your wetness all over me, dark and satanic and beautiful. You are lustful when you place your kisses on my stomach and on my chest, and all business, and so serious. You fake so well, I can taste it.
Sometimes, I even forget you're a whore. |
Submission Name: Forgetting is Easy
