It's really a pantry of sorts.
We are all sitting together.
Drinking tea and looking towards the swinging door.
Sometimes a chaotic burst has been known to ****** itself through that singular, chipped door of an indiscriminate time period.

The China is out with some over easy eggs and toasted white bread with butter and strawberry jam.
The laughing is jolly and merry.
The swinging door slams into the side of this pantry of sorts.
A home for us.
I stand up to the door. There is no one there.
Walking out of that swinging door, noticing that no one has noticed.
This cup of tea is amazing. Fragrant and warm.
Laughter follows me as I tip toe down the Great Hall.
The Golden Doors. The archway to everlasting life.
A drooping of my wrist, as keys appear on a rigid band of gold. Razor thin, silver keys weigh in on each other causing a dilemma. Each key is opaque with the silver only made visible from the sun that struggles to saturate the Great Hall I find myself standing in. Lifting my wrist proves a difficult task

In honesty ,
I don't see a reason not to,
I apologise for being crude or being rude or being blunt,

I can feel this urge,
this craving,
this want.

I know you've wanted it,
And I refuse to dennie it,

To be clear an honest, I don't plan to disrespect or disregard,
Your words or agreements.

But I don't disregard your wants, and I don't see why I would,
You make me feel like I shouldn't, but you do like you should.

Your eyes scream at me,
As your thoughts twisting into my frequencies, calling me, but keeping me at bay.

Your body reserved but your fingers twitch,
Watching you closely,
I can feel your nervous, it's not about me, I can feel you wanting me, but nervous.

As I said it's not me, your not nervous about me, you may not know me, but you know me, well enough to or understand or know my intentions, but you know your not nervous because of me, I know you aren't.

But I do know why you are.

You gave me a reason, but I don't feel you can agree with it, I can feel your regret already building as you say no.

But I know why,
your afraid, of the problem, of the situation, of the conversation, of the lingering regret of regrets yet felt.

But what regrets are more fearsome then the ones we create in our selves?

Give your desire to me, rest your eyes from fears, let me take what you want me to have, and I'll give everything I know you want.

To me this submission is one long coming, and now it's silent and waiting,
Every glance, every bitten lip, every idea of desire, every moment in my presence, I've felt you.

Your wants flowing to me like a current from the oceans pull, doubtless as they are, unquestionable,
And unrelenting.

So to be honest what reason not to, when it seems the scales have set, and balance is in my favor, and yours.