the life and musings of a kinky slut

4.29.18 If

~ a poem ~

I’d come home to see you every two weeks, no excuses.
I’m not made of money, so we’d go havsies on a plane ticket for the odd visits,
and I’d drive for the even ones.

My grades would not be allowed to suffer.
Anything less than a 75% on an Exam would incur immediate punishment.
You’d decide what that is.

I want your ring on my finger
and your baby growing in my belly.

You’d come visit me at school once a season.

You’d text me randomly,
asking for a photo of my hand.
You’d want to see your ring on me,
just cause.

I’d face time you most nights.
I want you to see my face, and hear my voice, as I moan your name before I fall asleep.

In your apartment, I’d never wear clothes.
In my apartment, you’d hide little surprises for me.

Each time you’d visit would be a surprise.
I’d find you waiting for me outside the building, drop all my things, and run into your arms.
I wouldn’t care who saw or what they thought of my childish glee at your arrival.

You’d want to meet my friends;
you’d rib the boys and flirt with the girls.
All the while, you’d hold my hand and make me feel all gushy inside.

I’d promise to only apply to programs within a three hour drive of you.
You’d scoff and tell me to aim higher, be brilliant.
I’d fall in love with you all over again.

We’d marry at the end of my second year.
Have babies at the end of third and fourth.
We’d wait until a few years into my residency before having number three.

We’d live in a house with a backyard
and a basement
and a den
and so much grass.

We’d spend Sundays with the house smelling like coffee and the air filled with laughter.
We’d snuggle up in a pile on the couch to watch sports.
I’d thank whatever god there is for our life.

I will never stop loving you.

Categorised as: Poem | Writing

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