“I’m sorry.”
“I’ll never do it again.”
My sincerity is secondary to her acceptance.
I may or may not mean it
But if she believes me,
Then it doesn’t matter if all I’m giving her is a pipe dream.

I pull immunity from her lips.
My fingers smell like her forgiveness.
She embraces my apology with open legs.
Wanting to be filled with love
She gets filled with hope instead.
In and out, up and down cries turn moans.
Orgasms numb the gashes in her soul.
Time heals all wounds
She needs my ointment to take hold.
And my stroke at midnight keeps her medicine on schedule.

I’ll make it better.
Where our relations have dried,
I will make it wetter.
That is the truth
It’s just not how she needs it applied
She doesnt care
At least, that’s what her body tells her
Her heart agrees, too.
She loves the way we lie.