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Array
(
[sid] => 15186
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => The World's Best Liar
[time] => 2003-03-29 22:45:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Every woman looks like you when I close my eyes.
Every neck I run my tongue across is yours, which makes me keep going up to the ears for a nibble. I hear myself whispering words of honey. They are the truest words I've ever spoken, If only they were spoken to you. So, I kiss her lips harder, bathing her tongue in mine, forcing my hands through her hair impatiently. And if her lips are sweet enough, she is you. So, I run angel lines down her back with the tender tips of my shaking fingers, and she sighs like she's in heaven, and she begs me to touch her more intimately. I hesitate, paralyzed by the very thought of touching the most perfect place in all the world, until she whispers Words you would never use, Then, I can touch her If she is soft enough, she is you. And, I can't get deep enough inside of her, can't touch her tenderly enough, can't suspend her moment of ecstasy long enough. When she lies in my arms collapsed and spent and silent, the truth of my deceit bubbles up inside of me, a merciless rage, an undeniable impulse to scream your name, and I come to hate her for a moment For loving my touch For being everything beautiful For proving your absence And I am left with the sorrowful solace of knowing Every woman loves the way I touch you. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 206 [topic] => 8 [informant] => lastwaltz [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AmericanTragedy )
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