That Kind of Love.

You want him to be always there for you and to hug him each time the opportunity arrives and not let the day to day humdrum take away the finer feelings of all this and the fact that William is beside you with his head on your shoulder and his words spoken to you some few minutes ago filtering into your consciousness his saying Tony I need to be here with you more often and not let Mary spoil this for me with her constant nagging and always wanting this and that and wanting me to make love to her when all I want is to be here with you and those words of his echo inside your head and vibrate on each nerve of your being and you smile and stroke William’s head brush your hand softly against his hair and feel the inner turmoil stir that inner wanting him here all of the time and knowing that at the moment this just cannot be what with his wife being such a bitch and threatening all kinds of things and demanding all things great and small and draining him of his life and life juices and his intelligence wasted on her and her so worldly wants and little charms of smiles and flickering eyelashes and if she could have such a love as you have she’d dry up and waste away for the sheer emptiness within her would implode and leave her as light and useless and a dry autumn leaf and all you want at the moment is to make the most of this time with him to hold and feel him and kiss his brow and make that love that has they say no name but one heck of a lot of feeling and passion and if only this could last forever and not end when Death & Co comes in from the wings of your stage of life and drag you off whimpering or screaming or maybe just a big bang brilliant passion and all over but you don’t want to think of that you just want William and this time and this bed and this hold and kiss and to know his arms around you are closer than any have been and if God watches that he will be turning a blind eye and maybe giving an ok thumbs up and not be all vengeful as his witness are and now William turns and kisses your cheek and places his hand upon your heart as if he wants to open you up and feel the pumping heart in his warm hand and squeeze it and place it next to his own and if that bitch of a wife of his could see him now the cow would roll over like some bitch on heat and beg him to come to wifey come to wifey do and he’d laugh and cry and hold you even tighter so that the dark of doubt could not squeeze you out but hold you nearer than the breath of life and kiss each inch of your flesh with the lips of his that would feel like a thousand fires burning. 1