He wrote “Darling, you love me quite clearly,
Sadly, though, fuck me just yearly.
Once a week, twice
Would have been rather nice…
But too late. Fuck yourself. Yours sincerely.
Tag: love
Fool
So he’s thinking “Just kiss her you fool!”
She’s so pretty, so sexy, so cool,
And that look in her eyes…
As she puckers up, sighs…
And, like, all he can do is just drool.
The hunt
Not the tenderness of the embrace,
Not the search for love… that’s not the case…
To his own mild surprise
It’s the bagging the prize,
The lust, madness, the thrill of the chase.
Skin in the game
He slipped into her cunt, snug and warm,
For some comfort, in some shape or form…
“It ain’t love, like,” he thought,
“But life’s hard, and too short…
It’s just, like, any port in a storm.”
The remains
Fallen out of love, all that remains
Sorrow, anger, regrets; the heart’s pains,
And a half-empty bed,
Pillow shaped by her head,
Rumpled sheets, stale perfume, cum stains.
Falling
Just the prospect of sex was appalling…
The grunting, the smells, the damned mauling…
It seemed though she must…
It was part of it… lust…
Of this love into which she was falling.
Goddess
Like a goddess, the girl he adored,
Though in many ways, sadly, much flawed…
She in fact was a whore
And, what’s worse, she cost more
Than a fellow like him could afford.
Between the lines
Though the sentiments written were tender,
She firmly wrote “Return to sender”…
His words of love moot,
She was sure a root
Was most certainly on his agenda.
Drilling down
A great body, a breaker of hearts,
Skilled at all the erotic dark arts…
A great fuck… but to love?
Like, if push come to shove,
Is she more than the sum of her parts?
They agreed this was love, heart to heart…
No more loneliness, being apart…
Just imagine their joy,
A young girl, a young boy…
Not quite fucking, but still, it’s a start!