and who do you want instead?

whose arms would you
rather enfold you?
whose lips would you rather
trace with your fingertips?
whose scent would you
want to be breathing in
instead of his?

when he runs his hands
through each silken strand
each touch, each sound,
whose smile would you have
traded everything for?
whose name would you
have rather whispered?

are you more guilty
that you are dreaming
of lying with someone else
or is the bigger crime
your inability to admit
that you have indeed fallen

for someone other than
the person who so
lovingly, trustingly
engulfs you in his embrace

when you close your eyes dear,
tell me, who do you picture?

i know it's not me. . .

you did not have to wish,
never had to dream
i was there,
just there. . .

i guess it's not me