Cowboys

Filthy boots, his jeans grubby and tatty
“Damn cowboys!” she thought, bein’ catty…
But then, (half his luck)
“Why not throw him a fuck…
Ain’t no need for guys dressin’ up natty.”

Trust

Young, confused, foolish, flattered and flustered,
She let him, this man whom she’d trusted,
Do things to her which 
Scared her, hurt like a bitch,
Left her mortified, shamed and disgusted.

Suspicion

“I’d not mind…” she said “just being screwed…
I’m in fact in an amorous mood, 
But I’m rather concerned…
(A suspicion hard earned)
Just what else being fucked might include!”

Sooner or later

She’d said no, of course, at the beginning,
To fuck, she well knew, would be sinning…
But kissing was great, 
When they went on a date,
And his hands… yes, the dark side was winning.