They call her Di Di

Friends do that is

I wasn't her friend

I was her co-worker

She was work hot--

Good looking by comparison 

To the rest of the staff

She was long and slender

Hippy hips

Nice face and beauty

Beneath the skin

I would fantasize

About having sex with her

In the stairwell

The stairwell was the only

Place we could ever get away

With it

I would pass her in my mind

On the steps

In the stairwell 

And we would softly

Turn into one another

And I would pull her pants down

And she would unzip my pants

And I would lift her leg

And she would pulse

And I would have no intention

Of ever pulling away. 

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Do I really have to explain this one? Well, I just wrote and didn't stop until it was finished and that's where it stands right now. Could I make it better? hell yea, do I want to? Probably not. Sometimes imperfection suits me, because like you, I'm also not perfect. So why try to be all the time? It's exhausting and doesn't leave room for true beauty ( like this is to me), written, or otherwise. It's real.

updated Jun 20 '09 by Tad_Winslow