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Who will it be, the slut or me? ( journal series)

I dialed your number but
the voicemail said
to leave a message, you are busy
so I did
“hi baby, please don’t be too late
remember, we have a special date
and I’m wearing your favourite: deep red”

I wait patiently
for several hours
hoping for you to show
waiting for your imposing silhouette
to appear in the doorway
in that casual way that’s distinctly yours
leaning against the frame
with a smile in your voice
and a glint in your eye
“honey, I’m home…I want you
and I want you, NOW”

I watch as the time shifts
steadily marching on,
and I reach to fill yet
another glass with deep
burgundy liquid – almost the same
shade as the skimpy fabric
still hugging my body
while still hoping for you to show
waiting for you to sweep me up
and press me close into you,
while your hands run fervently
over my bared skin, your fingers
tangling in my hair your
hoarse voice heavily breathing
into my neck:
“you are so fucking beautiful
I want you, NOW”

I don’t know where you are
no, that is just a lie, for I know
exactly where you are
but I hoped that you wouldn’t
for I’m hoping for you still to show
“please don’t go there tonight…
please just come home, we have a special date”

and I know there really is
no contest for she is just so
goddamned gorgeous
and I simply could not compete
with her golden glowing skin
her beach blonde tresses
her deep dark pools that
hold your gaze so intently
her long limbs and lean thighs
her polished taut skin
her pink pouty lips
her perfectly toned young body
not ruined by birthing children
her carefree, clear laughter
that of a kept woman…

I know she offers you
so much more, than I can give
for she is the Imax, while I am
only an amateur home video
she is haute couture
I am store-bought
she is your Johnny Blue
I am just a J&B
she is a vacation to exotic faraway lands
I am the family holiday at the beach house
she is a passionate wild tango
I am a mere serene waltz
she is the Matisse of masterpieces
I am our daughter’s first grade drawing
she is the splendid sunrise, romantic sunset
I am the dull wintry day, dim moonless night
she is the rainstorm in your drought
I am the sand dune in the wind
she is your Jenna Jameson
I am just the mother of your children
she is the one living my life
I am only your slave, your wife

But still the time is passing
the bottle is now emptied
the strawberries have wilted
the food is cold
and I am praying
hoping for you to finally show…
to pin me to the wall
to undress me, to devour me
to drink me in with your eyes
with your mouth
with your kisses
“dear god, you’re so hot
I want you NOW”

the way you used to do
when I was still beautiful to you
before you became bored
with the reality of our existence
and saturated by the
consistency of my continuous love
before you started looking
for fresher flesh to feed your hunger
and younger teases
to do as you please with

It is now almost sunrise
and I change the deep reds
for the white t-shirt you wore
to bed when you last spent
the night at home
I want to smell you
I want to feel close to you
I want to imagine you holding me
loving me
the way you used to, recently
I hear you come in through
the garage
tossing your keys on
the kitchen counter
I hear your laden footsteps
hoping you’ll show
hoping you’ll know
hoping you’ll remember
but as you walk into our room
I immediately smell her as you enter
the sickly sweet scent of her sex
on your body
your hair
your fingers
your lips
your breath
no amount of washing removes
that stained sexual scent
“sorry, babe, had to work late,
got your message, said something about a date?”

and I knew then, for sure
you no longer loved me
you now longer cared
the date was nothing
only our anniversary
but even that
we no longer shared

“Dear baby,
I suppose there’s no contest
it’s the slut versus me
and I guess you’ve already decided
about who it will be
I will now let you go, set you free
for on you I am wasted
don’t you see?
Your once loving
Wife”

Who will it be, the slut or me? ( journal series)

SilentScreamer

Joined May 2010

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 55

Artist's Description

No matter how we try to ignore or deny…some things remain true, no matter what we do…

Written in a journal, some time ago when things were bad, sad and a little more than tense

FEATURED:
Midnight Ramblers July 2010
Love Bites 26 July 2010

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