Thursday, April 29, 2010
Your door is right next to mine. I hear you come and go. I never thought of you as magnetic. Definitely not aristocratic. You are arrogant. You have a lamb. She is meek and naive. I have a beau. He is complaisant and sunny. Some days you watch from your window as I switch my hips and flip my hair. Some days I do a bit extra because I know you are observing my every move. Nightime falls, as I emanate smoke from my somber lips. You come to my door and you make your move. Like a Boa, you constrict me baby. Your hands are strong, like a sailor. I am the Siren, singing a song to sink your ship. My hips, like the beat of a war drum. Your hands, like a warrior looking for battlegrounds. This is dangerous sir. Let our lies not come undone. Make a promise. Lips zipped. We both know that undone zippers lead to trouble. Your lamb cannot be slaughtered. I am not like you. I am conscience deficient. You are a pussy. When the wreckage happened, you went Judas on me. I am not going to be a martyr. You are a scared little boy in a man's body. Take responsibility for your own fucking actions. You are no Casanova. Don't give yourself credit. You are nothing more than a skirt chasing, philandering puppy. You aren't even a dog because dogs actually have pride. Get over yourself. I used you for my amusement. You got caught. I did not. Who is the fool now?