They stand side by side,
chatting as if they’re friends,
but all they have in common is me.
The musky scent of his aftershave clashes
with the sweet cherry of her lip gloss.
The truth behind the combined scents
causes a sickness to bubble inside me,
but I’m frozen as I stand staring at
the sight of my lover standing next
to the object of my desire.
Her beauty is home to me.
The first time our lips met,
her strawberry lip gloss blended
delectably with my vanilla mint.
We explored our wants crouched
between parked cars in a darkened lot
until the day came when we saw each other
spread out on the bed, her pale skin
glinting in the wake of my tongue
and the strands of her ebony hair
fanning out on the pillow
in contradiction with my golden ones.
But his alluring appeal is at once
everything I fear and everything
I’ve always dreamed of.
My knees shake and my heart pounds
every time he winks at me and
I get a whiff of his aftershave.
To say that I love her
would be to reduce the depth
of my emotion down to mere words.
How long now have I envisioned
my future intricately connected with hers?
He isn’t much more than a stranger.
I mean so much more to her
than I ever will to him.
He’ll never sacrifice for me what she will.
Even now as I look at her,
her eyes flash me her blessing
as she steps away from him.
I inhale the unfamiliar waves of masculinity
emanating from him as his arms embrace me.
The heady scent of aftershave and sweat is
so unlike her watermelon lip gloss,
but it awakens something inside me
and I realize that I never really had a choice.
His lips are rough but forcefully gentle
and I find a rhythm, chasing his tongue and wanting more.
When he lifts me up and lays me down
he brings my quivering body
to tear-provoking depths
that alarm him in their intensity
until I silence his worries with
my mouth, drowning us both
in the scent of aftershave and lip gloss.
He got me hooked on the scent of aftershave,
even now that he is long gone
and I am in the arms of another.
I’ve almost forgotten the taste
of her apple lip gloss.
So why then, do I find that every now and then
a certain beauty catches my eye?
A special type brimming with more cute than sexy,
with the same spunk in her step that’s in my own.
Why do I find myself transfixed on the sight
of long shiny hair falling over pale shoulders
and the thin fabric of a blouse clinging to skin?
At least I know I’m not alone,
for it’s not so infrequent
that I see a woman’s eyes linger on me,
glinting with the same sparkle
that must surely be in my own,
and I know we’re both longing
for the taste of cherry lip gloss
lingering on our tongues.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
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