Every Wicked Though

I tell time by that moment.  Judging when something changed. 

It was only after a bottle of rum split between us; only after you
moved so close, I could smell it.  You didn't push, merely slid close
and let your lips hover just above mine, inviting.  It wasn't hard to
imagine what you'd taste like, what you'd feel like.  That was the
moment when I indulged in fantasies, in wondering; pondering the
texture of your lips.  Imagination so vivid I could almost feel the
brush of your lips, not soft like hers, but roughened and practiced. 

If I had breathed, moved closer, I wouldn't have to wonder.  And it
was while I sat there, itching to move nearer, that the change
began.  Cursed, pure thoughts shoved the darker, truer ones down,
suffocated them.  Perhaps I panicked.  Perhaps it doesn't matter
now. 

It was long after I pulled away, told you about 'her' and my promise
to protect her, love her; long after you laughed it off and said it
was 'all right'.  So easy, saying 'no'.  You made it too easy.

And sometime after I walked you home like a gentleman, hands to
myself, and watched you stumble to your tiny inn room; after I
collapsed onto my large bed beside the one keeping me from you;
sometime after I no longer found comfort in her rhythmic breathing;
after I couldn't sleep from remembering your face so close to mine. 

It was after all these things that regret sat in. 

Thinking what 'could have been'.  Never satisfying the itch, never
discovering your taste or texture.   Let all those thoughts go
because she may be right for me; she may be my future.

Live everyday knowing that you're every wicked thought I ever had.

Because now she's everything I deserve and nothing I want. 

~end~

***

                            
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