Monday, September 19, 2011

A Bad Excuse Is Better Than No Excuse At All

That fragrance streaked across my good times. The rush and hush of hurried hands, tongues, and minds. Sprinkling your touch all across my body and calendar. Undetermined consequences but understandable affection and attention and a strong sense of caring and not caring. Caring for you and not about those who see it, with peering eyes but peering into the eyes whom hold care for you too. A feeding frenzy of uncontrollable like, a severe case of want and a budding sliver of need. A pressing point of pressing, me pressing into you, you pressing into me and the best slumber I've ever had. Tangible slumber that mimicked tangible times and suddenly I'm exactly where I didn't want to be but I'm starting to get the feeling that I just want to be where ever you decide to be. Shame on me. Polishing shoes, getting ready to step over and right on top of those who are in the way of what I'm feeling, because suddenly I am fleeting, and not just with the emotion but the motion in action and the time to act is now, if I don't shake and shimmy that I can't complain, a bad excuse is better than no excuse at all.

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