My thoughts around six p.m.

[y=mx+b]

In my youth I remember stories of
forgotten wives.
Lonely at home,
longing for their husbands at work
--desiring to be touched.

I remember hearing it in song
seeing it on TV
or in the movies.

A beautiful wife
forgotten
unfulfilled
and frustrated.

At night she would cry
as the man she loved
was too tired to touch,
--to please.

Once chores were done,
she would relax in a nice hot bath,
--or hit the bottle.
perhaps confide in a friend,
--man or woman.

afterward she was always
what she was left to be,
alone,
unfulfilled,
longing for the one she loved
to let the lust run free.

I remember telling myself
--when I get a woman, I'll never be like that.
I will long for her while I am away.
I will desire to touch her each and every day.

Softly with my fingers along her face,
--caressing her breasts
--yearning to taste.

I will send her love notes in the mail.
--and hug her before I leave for work.

When I got home
she would meet me at the door.
I would drop to my knees
and hug her hips
unbutton her pants
and bury my face in her panty clad crotch.


But...

It is I who is at home
and she who is at work.

I still have these desires
--to be fulfilled.

Like the wives of days gone by
I sit here wanting to please
--to be pleased.

She has yet to come home.

To go down on her would be a pleasure
but she,
she will be tired.
--too tired to play.

I long for the love
--for her lips
--for her tease.

I long for her to put her pantied ass to my face
--for her mouth to bathe my cock
with a tongue urging me to come.

And her hair,
her soft hair caressing my hips
and her hands grasp on my shaft
and the sound,
the sound of her disrupted breathing.
--her breasts, soft, full, sensitive, and warm.

She will be home,
feet dragging and tired.
Here eyes tell so much
--not tonight.
Yet she will want to talk,
--to tell me all about her day
--and I will listen.

Then she will decompress
to the chit-chat of her boards.
Then it will be late,
--too late.

and my desire?
--it is of no significance when sleep is a priority.
--and she deserves her rest.

So like the house wives of days gone by
I too go elswhere to end my desire.

Here on Lit. where fantasies prevail.
Where I can read about wives who go to great lengths,
neighbors who flirt,
and coupleings that never fail.

Lost in fantasy
At the end of the day I will always be
what I was in the beginning,
alone
unfulfilled
longing for the one I love
--to let her lust run free

 

[WickedEve]

This has potential. You have some good material to work with. It just needs some shaping up. It may help to cut some of it out. Here's one suggestion for an edit. It's rough but it'll give you an idea of one of the possible ways to revise it.

Forgotten wives:
once heard it in a song,
saw it on TV.

At night she cries
because a working man's
too tired to touch,
too tired to please.

She's left with her bath and bottle,
confiding in a friend
that her lust needs to run free.


When I get a woman,
I'll never be like that.
I'll send her love notes in the mail,
come home and drop to my knees,
bury my smiles against her.

But instead, she works
and I'm the one who's home--
forgotten husband.

I long for her,
though I know she'll drag in,
decompress to the chit-chat of her boards.
Then it will be too late.
Her sleep is a priority.

At the end of the day
I'll be the one left wanting her
to let my lust run free.


Anyway, you can play around with it and see what you come up with. I think there's a good poem here after you chip away at it a little.

 

[y=mx+b]

thanks for the help ! I'm still playing around with it. Brevity has always alluded me.