Like it never happened!

The words; the best foreplay.

The acts; the sensual play of our parts.

The long gaze of my eyes; yours!

The raging pleasure in my veins; your response!


The heat which burns like ice.

Was I right?

For taking advantage of our moods.

Were you true?

The emotions you so revealed.


Our heads played, our hearts responded.

Pumping blood for the motions that are resounding.

But now, we have to pretend.


The was no pain with the pleasure.

And night is come.

It’s over!

A new morning; a new light, bleaching my sight.

The raging pleasure in my veins; your response.

The oblivion we didn’t phantom.

Irrelevant at that point.

But now, our end result.


Reality has walked through the door after the new light loathe the night.

So can we pretend?

Pretend like it never happened?

Then, pleasure came without pain.

But I can’t say same for now.


An upset from food that pleasured my taste buds a while ago.

Everything with a consequence.

Without retort to eating that which I am not accustomed to, I am beginning to abhor without reasoning through.

I am, in fact, pretending like it never happened.

Yet the aftermath, not so much.




Asford Psalms



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