thursday morning

for hours she was lost in his tongue caressing her pussy
and as she climaxed she fell right through his desk // then she lay next to him
exhausted and content // smelling the salty sweat of his skin

one two three four five years go by I don’t really know why // I don’t really know why

but I know we’re still the same old lovers // strangers and yet familiar after all this time

you fucked the old woman beautiful as always // she said looking in the mirror next to them for a second
he shook his head smiling sometimes // it seemed he wasn’t sure what to think of her outspokenness

summer vacation was coming up // once again she was glad she wasn’t wearing his shoes // behind the screen she saw him and her and the kids in London
a faint picture only // that caused only a matter-of-fact feeling

three weeks without texting or e-mail though she thought // every year again it’s like getting your limbs cut off one by one // but then you get used to it and then he’s back

there was melancholy in his eyes even before good-bye was approaching // she noticed but she wanted to savor the feeling of his touch // she didn’t want to talk and anyways // he knew that she knew and that she so often felt the same

think about me when you look at Big Ben she said // kissing the wrinkles next to his eyes one last time
she wasn’t sad // it was just that every single cell of her body and mind prayed //
he’d come back to her // again and again

one two three four five years go by I don’t really know why // I don’t really know why

because if he left her there would be nothing to come but death //


Comments? Comments!

Trage deine Daten unten ein oder klicke ein Icon um dich einzuloggen:

Du kommentierst mit Deinem Abmelden /  Ändern )

Google+ Foto

Du kommentierst mit Deinem Google+-Konto. Abmelden /  Ändern )


Du kommentierst mit Deinem Twitter-Konto. Abmelden /  Ändern )


Du kommentierst mit Deinem Facebook-Konto. Abmelden /  Ändern )


Verbinde mit %s