So, they met to catch up, reconnect…
“You got married, I’m thinking… correct?
“No,” she said. “Don’t know why…
Never met the right guy…
Still a virgin, the last time I checked!”
Tag: romance
The hurt
“I don’t love you,” she said. “That’s the thing,
When he knelt down and offered a ring…
“You’re a pretty good lay,
But that’s all, like… Okay?
Sex ain’t love… Understand? There’s the sting!”
Out of the blue
It just came to her, out of the blue,
What she wanted was mainly a screw,
Not the whole romance thing…
Maybe just a mad fling,
And she didn’t mind very much who.
Wishing and hoping
Not the sex itself, more the aesthetic…
Just fucking seemed sort of pathetic…
She wanted romance…
Candles, wine… they should dance…
He should say stuff like… kinda poetic!
Reading the room
She could tell, from the bulge in his pants,
That he entertained thoughts of romance…
Of the physical kind…
Which she wouldn’t much mind…
Lucky bastard was in with a chance!
Romance
She said “Darling… not being pedantic,
But could you be, sort of… less frantic?
It’s called making love,
And, well, heavens above!
Being just fucked just isn’t… romantic!
Nefarious
He’s been planning for ages, it seems…
Lots of dirty, nefarious schemes
To get into her pants,
Which the fool called romance…
“Fuck you, buster!” she says. “In your dreams!”
Star crossed lovers
Their romance, you might say, was ill fated.
They met in school, flirted and dated,
Had sex then, most days,
Lots of int’resting ways,
Till he fucked some hot bitch who she hated!
Come and gone
At an age where her prospects had dwindled,
Romance had, at last, it seemed, kindled!
She lowered her pants,
Leaving nothing to chance,
But next morning found out she’d been swindled!
Different strokes
Whereas English girls like it romantic,
The other side of the Atlantic,
The making of love
Is all grunt, push and shove;
Rather vulgar, and loud, and too frantic.