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With Her, it is Simple

With Her, it is Simple
By kayakndan on 03/19/2017
Viewed: 71
Reviews: 1
“With Her, it is Simple”

With her, it is simple. There is no outside world beyond the faint restraints of our heedless bed sheets.
With her, it is simple. Two bared lovers, insular souls corralled effortlessly within candlelit walls.
With her, it is simple. Soft seclusion with aroused caresses, timeless and thorough.
With her, it is simple. The wants are mutual, obtuse, save for the need for heightening ecstasy.
With her, it is simple. Alluring eyes tearing, the glint of granted wishes made with our eyes closed.
With her, it is simple. Light hints of skin explored with dreaming fingertips and giggly nibbles.
With her, it is simple. Moments of scintillating tease, provocative garb slipped on…and ripped off.
With her, it is simple. Dormant physicality unleashed, hinted prowess on full exhibition.
With her, it is simple. Lovemaking reverberations voluble, enticing further effort to elicit the tone.
With her, it is simple. Releasing ethereal passions, deeply, through the flesh and into the racing hearts.
With her, it is simple. Late rest in devoting embraces, unencumbered by Destiny’s tick-tock drumbeat.
With her, it is simple. I love her.

I wrote this on a Thursday, after a rare weeknight bar shift. One of the vodka hens at Sebastien's, seizing on a Mary-less moment with her fellow cluckers, asked me what I saw in her. They knew only the resting bitch face at the bar that I went home with after hustling a few dollars more to try to keep the kids fed that week without? having to go to my father again and again for money. They could not know she was there because I was there and there may have been a million other places she wished we could have been together, and I as well, but circumstance dictated I had to work as much as possible just to keep the power on at that time. Where they saw resting bitch face, I saw bemusement and superiority and biding time before passions in exquisite detail would be unhinged. Where they saw a quiet, cold fish in eclectic clothes, often self-sewn and made, I saw a soul blessed with a country upbringing, whose mind was blessed with a huge education beyond the many books on her bigass book shelf (the first thing I noticed when I entered the home she owns for the first time), and a want for me that was without equal, a want for me she sacrificed a lot of pride to have. Yes, I could have done prettier, I could have done "sexier", but better? There is no one better person than her to me. I tried hundreds? on in my day. That's not embellishment, that's the sad truth. I may have had wilder nights in a hundred rooms: coke, XTC threesomes, hit and runs, long term affairs, a harem in rotation, knocking low hanging fruit out one a day for weeks at a time in my youth. Sisters on purpose. You name it. I am much of what I wrote. Oh yes, I liked the ladies and I always did. And a lot of them liked me back. But, today, I would one of those nights back for a simple one with her again.

"Poems are never finished, merely abandoned." - Percy Bysse Shelley

? By kayakndan On 3/19/2017 4:58:54 PM
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