Everyday

 
Its interesting how much time we spend
expressing ourselves
the way we dream and infatuate all day
about how sexy it would be
to touch,
to kiss
to just be there
Then when ever we get a chance
we rush to send electronically
modern day love letters
We write these fantasies
to one another
each letter filled with
anticipation
eagerness
enthusiasm
And being that we are free
fully mature
with no bounds or spousal priorities
still we wait
Like it’s our first time
Good to the very last drop
We promise…one day
maybe this weekend…

Moments of temporary satisfaction from whispers
over the telephone
My hands are yours
and your fingertips are mine
The most amazing conversations
short and to the point
but like two on the brink of love
Then finally after all the sweet lustful serenades
and gentle sighs
WE FUCK
Suddenly our words lose their affect
Our hands that once were used for fulfillment
find it hard to dial the numbers to hear that same voice
that before you just couldn't get enough of
Those expressions are dull now
boring
but not regretful