together we remain
in floods of disinterested sighs,
angry barbs, and artful hands.
this only looks like love

its so simple to see why you prefer her
I don’t humor your every whim
gratify your eccentricities.
I just use you
and you use me.
I’ll never love you like her

but would she still indulge your desires?
if she knew how you thought of me
in the black of night
underneath sheets of my sweat and arousal

our lust is the new crime.
illegal and deadly.
your wife in the crossfire.


--For Sunday Scribblings