Still

Touch me. Put your hands on me,
trace my body with your fingers, do
anything
to make me feel like I am
really here. Look into
my eyes, not through them,
through me. What we
did was wrong. Both of us.
Not just on me, not just on you,
on him, on her, or her, or her.
So if I can let go of me
seeing her,
arched back on all fours as you
bang-bang-banged her back out,
you should release your mind from
that one time
I went astray. That one time.
See, for you, it was one time, one times
that of the number of the divine, and even that
number could have been a lie, but still,
I tried to forget. And you hear
about my sole indiscretion and want
to clip my wings, toss
me from our heaven. Don’t touch you,
don’t look at you, I am wrong.
I know this, but still not as wrong as
when I opened the door and saw
that hoe
bent over
touching her toes as you
hit that slow-
grind that I hoped was reserved for one.
The sound that escaped her lips matched
mine;
hers of intense pleasure, mine of
agony-
hers a tingling causing her toes to
curl, mine,
an aching that caused my eyes
to blur as she turned
around and her face was a
younger version of my own.
Look at me. You will never see
me the same again?
Keep thinking about
another man’s hands
roaming my wonderland?
What about the time I came
to surprise and supply, had
full intention to lay out an appetizer
now
and give the main course
at home, but you were serving
up a meal of your own; she gladly
accepted your milkshake as her
dessert, slurping up the
last drop as I entered,
wiped her mouth
then I hit her.
Maybe I am the fool, but look at me.
Don’t say I should have left us instead
of hooking up, said something
instead of giving it up,
but you left me with no choice. The image you held
of me is now gone,
my angelic face blanketed
with the darkness of my found indiscretion,
but yours is the same. No shame,
no cares,
it is still the face of the man I love, who
tells me it is over because a person
told you partial truth. Her deception was
not needed, I know you, you would have beat
it then skeeted, then came home and
slept in the sheets
with me again.
And I STILL love you. Do what you will
or what you must, call up your sluts
for a quick nut. Just look at me. Put your
hands on me. Make me feel like I am really here.
Please.