Ulterior Tug of War- Poem.

A simple childhood game,

Cautiously whispers the sound of danger as you summon me to play. 

The invisible rope commences this war.

I’ll grab one end, the other is yours.

Your self-assured confidence pulls the rope with a strong clench.
Chills tingle down my neck with each word you elect.
"It’s nice to finally see you again."

But we're just friends.
Here on this crowded beach for the weekend.

Despite your erotic perception that captivates my deceptions.
I marvel at the thoughts discreetly and I imagine it.

We’ll sit on wooden bar stools inside The Hideaway Cafe. 

You'll get up to order both of us the same drink. 
I’ll watch you high five the bartender before you come back and take a seat. 

I’ll sit and observe our similarities.

How we’re both dominant and free spirited. 

Or how you laugh while you talk,
While we watch the kids flying through pennies inside the arcade on the boardwalk. 

I preserve composure gripping my ulterior rope nervously tight.

Because you keep gazing at me with those husky blue succulent eyes.

You grab my hand and my pulse drums harder and harder. 
You might have to administer CPR just to save another. 

Your touch warm, fulfilling my wildest desires. 

But this kind of affair would ignite the entire bonfire. 

As the images linger vividly throughout my mind.

You grip the rope and tow me closer to the destructional side.

The visualization speaks waves all the way back into your silent hotel room. 
When you confess to me.
"I have been thinking wicked thoughts about you too." 

"Why me?"I ask, pulling harder as you’re pulling me back. 

But this ulterior tug of war goes into full blown attack. 

Suddenly I lose my grip.

And my hesitation falls down along with it. 

I let go of the rope as we both stumble down.
Laughing as we lock eyes for each other on the sand castle garnished ground.
You grab and lay me onto the wet muddy sand. 

That now lingers on every place of our bodies we both put our hands. 

I grasp the kiss you left on my neck with your soaked sandy lips. 

Thinking, Damn I should get locked up just for imagining any of this.

But just like a married man inside of a Colombian brothel.
My past lovers taught me that this kind of act is perfectly lawful. 

While their torches scorch to force my heart to serve its life sentence,

Just to keep it captive inside its confinement. 
So I can't help but to visually imagine any of this.
Besides its not like an ulterior tug of war could even rescue it.   

Written by: Tiffany Bales