Hard Beat

I know before our lips meet again, before my hands slip beneath her shirt and skim up the line of her spine, before I let her undo the buttons on my jeans and slide her hands inside my waistband, before she tells me she “can’t” again that this is such a very bad idea. That I’m going to end up hurt and reeling with one more memory to cling to and to be haunted by simultaneously. That this time around I’m just as guilty as she is because I’m knowingly cheating with a married woman.