My Star-Struck Lover

From the start
my star-struck lover
had her eyes stuck in mine,
never changing her gaze
doubled over love-sick
never complaining
how much it hurt
the ache from being apart.
It wasn’t until we agreed
to meet up in a mud filled room
our once clean and pristine clothes
finally laid ruin.
Each night since
we get even filthier
understanding this sickness
truly can’t be helped.
Until she made us bathe
I promised I’d help clean
each and every inch
with her homemade bar of soap.
The rich and illustrious feel,
privilege or otherwise,
I should keep it down
my impossible stare
entwined with hers
until we were both staring
at a steamed up mirror.
How pretty was her form
she saw herself
for the first real time
this was her miracle.
Admiring herself
naturally strong features
hands touch inside.
Eyes follow curved lines
heavily soaped parts
feel the textures
suds start above shoulders
rolling down her spine,
just above hips
my favorite part
the choice of words she uses.
I drown in her thoughts
and whether I like it or not
I’ll listen to every word
until we’re toweled off.
She pushes me back
hard with both palms
with that look of hers
she’s my trigger guide,
just as we start all over
getting filthy again
in her room.

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