Familiar red rose with its thorns long since dulled, lulled, safe and secure,
In its vase, in its comfortable place, sure.
The good man of her vows who stood fast by her side, abides, dependably tied to the love of his life.
Unsullied and faultless, he was steadfast and true.
Good-looking and witty, he made a good living, giving in bed. “I love you-oh-oh-god and good night.”
Remember no dreams that might be wild or taboo.
Once you were glad for the bright orange rose, beaus, lusts in the past,
Sharply thorned, bluntly insistently warned, pricks passed.
A tall man who was taller and offered a drink, her drink; what was she to think of the cool, fiery man,
With copper hair tarnished and a bright ginger beard?
He was bold but not brash, his small talk rich with questions, obsessions with her heart’s undisclosed feelings until
“I only want you. Hush.” Then he wantonly leered.
Limited space in a vase for both roses, supposes the miss,
Tempting attempts. Wetted stem. Thorny abyss.
Then the stranger, to claim her, stepped toward her, how forward, touching the small of her back—her sweet derriere.
The dance had begun when she let him cut in then.
Unexpectedly hesitant, it was then at that instant when he faltered, her husband, well aware,
Backed off, for he knew that he lost—that he’d fallen.
Set aside, lovely red, just for the time being, freeing the hole
In the vase for the enthralling rose orange.
With his hand up her skirt and caressing her front, the cunt, fingers plunged and unplugged an unstoppable flood.
He loosened his pants, slapped his cock on her palm.
She fell back on the wall, ripped her panties aside, cried, died as she took in all of it all of it.
Her mute love wouldn’t peek when she peaked, full of cum.
Pointed thorns take a toll when handled in haste, abased, blushingly cast,
Dismissing pierced flesh, shaken heart, and shame.
“Take me home, love, take me at home, my love, free of, free me of my guilt,” with fears in her tears in her eyes.
And a rekindled knee-crawling, crazy-faced lust.
So the choice became his to make with his heart, in part, and his loins, not smart, and maybe the head.
Should his wife be reclaimed or sent to get fucked?
