Another woman's girl

Another woman's girl that is what you are I know this and so do you we do. We both know we are not for each other and the love you have for your love is clear. As she holds your hand walking down the high street chatting about missing your favourite show. She forgot to record it. 

Above her head we smile into each other's eyes. I can have you it is obvious to me as anything has been for a long, long while. And you, you would not say no. You consume me in your arms, complete in your deception of self.

Of all the women in our vicinity, I desire you. Although you have not spoken the words you do desire me. For the sake of sanity, friendship and good karma we should pretend this is my illusion.

Your big brown eyes, startled with recognition and your smile unsure. Your breath changing patterns your stillness telling.

I can hear blood coursing through me, I sense my body syncing with yours the certainty is there we are attracted to each other as I dance the other way from palm to fingers trailing across your torso detached from me. 

I know your are attuned to our conversations, behind the book you read, a flash of what your hands do to me as you flip the pages.

Who determines right or wrong and what is wrong for her is most definitely right for me. Those lips of yours on me should I question why I feel no shame, I am the other woman in this farce.

I wonder as your love chats on, she knows you and knows your body. Surely she must have an inkling even if you do not. As I stare into her eyes as we carry on speaking, do you know that I want your wife and she wants me? 

It occurs to me that for your girl and you, this maybe a familiar journey as the sight of your chest makes pause I fight the impulse to kiss your girl.

We share the warmest hug departing I barely touch your skin. I vow to myself as we walk apart that we will never meet again. 

But in this space where there is no judge I pray we ever met again.