She Was Simply Looking At The Bulge Of My In Between Poem by RIC BASTASA

I wanted something else, more than what she really wanted from me.
I want a talk, a longer talk, a sleepy talk to while my boring hours
Away,
And she looks at me differently, her eyes falling in between my legs,
Trying to unzip me by her looks, her hands busily slowly sliding in the pockets of my pants,
I did not complain, there is no reason, and it would be humiliating her
Own kind of simple joys as a woman,
She takes the first initiative that is her style, she is not recessive

She slides her fingers holding my
Bulge, respectful of her courageous tenderness,

She is heating me, I pretend I am gentle, and I keep on talking
About something else, like how I cared for her, when she’s lonely
I can be a listener

She’s drunk. And she is an honest woman, her fingers gripped
Me frankly demanding that I should not talk

I shut up and gave in. She will have no regrets. I gripped her hands
And lead it to something she really liked

She is drunk, and I am so forgiving. She will start her dinner and she need not speak

Her mouth is full.