the best thing about being no one is you can write whatever the fuck you want without worrying about pretext
so when i say i am torn between wanting to do nothing but kiss you for an entire evening with pure hunger
and tearing off your panties and taking you from behind with no words just savage sounds of intense need
there is no desire to entertain not titillate anyone but my own interest in writing directly to your beautiful eyes
maybe directly to the wet spot growing between your legs as well as an ode to the speeding up of your pulse
in ten years no one will remember this poem but try as you may you will never forget both scenarios
i have no reason to lie no one to impress and nothing to prove, it’s just me, your mouth, and an ocean of words
what else do we have to do?
I love it when you write about me.
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I almost spelled your name acrostically. Thought it would give too much away. You sexy bitch.
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In my mind, every time you speak, it sounds like Sarah McLachlan.
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It’s the fucking dog videos you insist be projected on the ceiling. You’re associating.
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I wiilll RE-memba yuuuuuu . . . Da-da-dah, da-dah-da
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