The Next Room

Making love to a Man
while my Husband is in the next room
Does that make me Harlot?
Not if you been what I’ve been through
Unloved, unwanted a measure too long
I dress meticulously while putting on my thong
Nervously I knock
on the door not far from mine
Slowly it opens
He whispers, “I’m going to take my time,”
“I know what you want, I know what you need.”
“Just lay back and spread those thighs for me.”
Does this make me a slut, allowing another to make me soar?
I hardly think so, My Husband is a bore
He’s unwilling and stubborn
too controlling for words
What he thinks is trash
another savors
Savored did the Man next door
while humming his praise
The electricity I felt ran straight through my veins
“Hmm,” I said over and over and over again
grabbing the top of his head with a permanent grin
“Take it, take it, take it!” I yelled
Not caring if I woke the Husband from hell
Maybe I’m too harsh, my Husband was kind
But not kind enough, our love is out of time
It’s expired, it’s gone, never to be rekindled
Let this night, with this man, always be a symbol
That life goes on, with good times ahead
Don’t judge the reasons I lay in anothers bed