"It's that easy", you tell me,
                 eyes straining, investigating the 
                 newly disturbed surface, dark and watery.

                 "It's that easy," you tell me,
                 fingertips carressing, kneeding the
                 knots of tension free.

                 "It's that easy," you tell me,
                 lips twisting, smiling into my
                 neck playfully.

                 "It's that easy," you tell me,
                 you body teasing, tempting me 
                 from my vows of matrimony.

                 "It's that easy," you tell me,
                 back arching, surrendering to 
                 my hunger so completely.

                 "It's that easy," you tell me,
                 hands quivering, pulsating with
                 your heat inside me.

                 "It's that easy," you tell me,
                 gun smoking, reliving the
                 crime, the execution of the unholy.

                 "It's that easy," you tell me,
                 speech slurring, supressing the
                 waking dreams mercilessly.

                 "It's that easy," I defy,
                 my anger mocking, passing sentence
                 as your judge and jury.

                 "It's that easy," I confess,
                 in the squad room arguing, attacking you
                 with blame for the creation of my own mess.

                 "It's that easy," I testify,
                 the months decaying, dispelling 
                 our partnership in agony.

                 "It's that easy," I reply,
                 in fear recoiling, unyeilding in 
                 its sombre beauty, echoing in the 
                 void, for denying This and 
                 forgetting You is never easy.