I wake.
I slowly look up to the ceiling and think. “FUCK”
It's how I begin every day.
I turn and place my feet on the floor.
My past. My master.
“Shut the fuck up.” I think.
My hands grip the air because I no longer smoke.
I try to laugh because God mocks me.
I will forever be His bitch.
I offer a grimace and a smile
I stand, stretch and then turn.
Looking back I can see she is still there.
I think to myself that I'm sure she's been told her whole life that she's a beauty.
I wonder if it has corrupted her.
How could it not.
Songs have been written of her like.
Once her eyes meet yours wars are begun. They have to be.
It's the way of things.
What sonnet do I quote because of her lips.
Because of her waist.
Her breasts?
What word or name does a man place upon Venus?
The temptress.
She stirs and I think that a temptress is no match for the likes of this she devil.
The curve of her back, the full lips and perked breasts of the devil that lives.
I thank God himself that she does not adorn the heaven's magnet.
The ginger cloak.
Our very Earth may live because she does not.
She withers beneath the silken sheets.
It's now that I know I am lost.
Inside I rage against the very cosmos.
Why am I mocked by the beauty when I have done and seen so much?
I have witnessed Halley's and Hale Bopp first hand.
Now her eyes open.
She gazes upon me and smiles.
Her eyes are forged together with her lips.
They command and no one says no.
“Dammit!” I think. She's good man. Damn good.
“Hey baby.” She whispers.
“Hi.” I offer.
“Shit that's lame.” I think.
Heat. She brings so much heat.
She rises and wears the silken sheets as though they were designed for her.
I hear the shower and I rethink my life for the umpteenth time in 24 hours.
There's no time for pleasantries.
I reach for my clothes and dress myself.
My mind concentrates and fights through the fog.
I finally grab my tie but then I smell her essence.
I can feel her heat.
My mind tells me I'm doomed. So very doomed.
I turn and there she is below me.
She turns her head and holds me tight.
I think "Why?"
“You will not slay me devil.” My mind shouts in silent defiance.
You will be well compensated sure.
You know this and yet you slay me?
You know not what you do me thinks.
I acquiescence.
She looks up and she offers.