Dim the lights
Now light a candle
Walk slowly
The perfect angle
Come close now
Stop and bite your lip
Take your hand
Trace lines by your hip
Yes that's it
In by your navel
Further down
Beneath see-through lace
Touch the crown
Quicken up the pace
Excitement
Come here let me taste
Near the bed
Blankets pushed aside
Sit on top
Put your lips on mine
Push me down
Not yet, take your time
Hands in hair
Love bites on the neck
A whisper
Baby, kiss my back
Flushed cheeks
No moment wasted
Hands grip tight
A thrill untasted
Pull them down
Tell me what to do
Lay back there
So I can taste you
Do not rush
Face pressed against thigh
Go real slow
I want you inside
Hearts beat fast
Quicker, almost wet
Got it right
The first of many sets
Kiss my lips
Anything you say
Can and will
Be used in foreplay

Here's to you,
I'll raise my glass.
You don't lie worth ****
but I'll let that pass.

I didn't say
that it was wrong
to live on the dark side,
it just isn't for me.

I told you
what I wanted
and you told me
how you felt.

It appears that
I was just another
notch on your
yard long belt.

It's too late
to take back
the things we said,
whether they
were said in the kitchen
or said in the bed.

You're not hard
to look at,
but that just won't do,
you're poison to my system,
worse than the flu.

For a while
we were on a roll,
until it came to the point
that you asked me
to sell my soul.

You lied so much
and now you play
the old stand by card,
how you are afraid of me,
that I just make your life so hard.

But it isn't me that makes the calls,
leaving message after message,
they all start with rants,
as soon as I hear your voice
I hit save.
I don't listen later,
why I keep them
is a mystery to me.
It looks as if now
you are just some part of my history.

Yes, now things are different,
our friendship of years is dead,
still I find I need a turn-key,
one to unlock my head.

I ache for the
love of your children,
the ones that
I have known for years.
on the outside I don't cry
but on the inside
I'm full of tears.

Now that our friendship
is dead and gone
I know I have to grieve,
what I don't know
is in what way
and for how long.

Things will change,
they always do
but there is no chance
that they will change for you.

I still love you,
I love you as a friend.
But your addictions
are so bad of a sign
that killing you softly
is what comes to mind.

Yesterday, as well as today,
I miss what was,
I miss what was the good.
Your children must
be so confused,
that I  no longer come around,
but to try and keep up the game
would not be very sound.

And now I hear
through the grapevine
that you are pregnant once again.
You can't afford the ones you have,
to include another is nothing
short of insane.

Your partner lives thousands
of miles away so he can make
the money it takes
to feed and clothe the ones
already here,
while you take his checque
and spend hundreds a month on
entertaining your fair weather friends
and beer.

You kept me around
as long as I was your go- to- guy,
someone to babysit
and drive you around.

When I started saying'no'
everything changed.
Nothing will be different
until your life
is rearranged.

There became no more requests to visit,
no invites for supper.
Well that is all well and good
but for the most part
it's your children that suffer.

So it's good bye, so long,
you've cut me out of the family.
But I guess everything must come to an end.
My only hope is that you will pull
yourself together and once more
I'll be able to call you a friend.

I'm all about forgive and forget,
I'm just not there yet.
Your slap in the face
when I brought over
your Christmas gifts
and what you said to
my friends.

Just as there are always
so many beginnings,
I see that there are also
so many ends.

Inside I cry,
outside I grimace,
but it is what it is none the less.

So here's to you,
may you hold it together.
May the days you have in store
be called somewhat better.
for now let us keep
our distance,
steer clear of one another
right down to the letter.

Once you can put down the glass
and return to what is the real world,
perhaps we can talk again,
perhaps we can 'let it go'
and once more address each other as 'my friend'.

© 2013

Where do the soap suds go
when they're washed down the drain?
Do they take the dirt and salty sweat
down to the sewers, where they won't be missed?

Once part of me, my veins and tear ducts,
there came a time for us to part, my dirt and I,
so the lathery angels kissed my ***** skin
and purified in instants a sad story of filth.

They wash away in streams of white-
ashes from car exhaust and cigarette butts,
and lines of black, like lung cancer and smeared makeup
and runny lines penned by an unclean hand.

I wonder, where do the soap suds go?
Do they toss my sins to the sea to be sunk
and forsaken, like how they came to cling to me?
Am I truly clean, or must the soap suds scrub my soul?

She sits on the chair
her wavy hair
still neatly in place
putting on her stockings

as he stands
with his back
to the window
gazing at her

she pauses
her fingers holding
the stocking tops
and looks at him

and says
in her sluttish French
do you want me
back tomorrow?

there is a draught
from the window
touching his naked back
sending a shiver

along his spine
sure
he says
but make it a little later

the wife’s got
a show to see
and she doesn’t leave
till just after 8

ok
she says
pulling up
the stocking

and fixing it
to the clip
shall I bring anything
with me?

no just yourself
he says
and maybe wear
that tight skirt

and creamy blouse
and those black stockings
she stands
and pulls down

her slip
to cover
her underwear
and looks around

for her dress
look
he says beware
of the concierge

she’s a nosey old biddy?
she asks
biddy what is that?
just be careful of her

he says
don’t let her
see you leave
or she’ll tell

the wife
oh I see
sure I will be careful
of the biddy

she says
picking up her dress
from the chair
by the bed

and as she turns away
he studies
her neat ***
the way she climbs

into the dress
her hands so quick
in movement
the finger so precise

like those of a pickpocket
and he sees her leg rise
the stockinged leg
the fineness of the thigh

then she turns toward him
and she smiles
and she starts
on the other leg

and he wonders
what his wife would say
if she came in now
how’d she’d look

then it’s over
the dame’s dressed
puts on her coat
and picks up her bag

and takes the money
he’d put on the desk
and shoves it
into the bag

and sighs
and leaves
and as she goes out
the door

waggling her ***
he knows
he wants her back
some more.