tagNon-Erotic PoetryCourting Disaster.

Courting Disaster.

byvrosej10©

He's back.

It's like a bad daytime soap,
Like a tennis ball,
Always coming,
Always going,
Never gone.

He was first in the queue,
Service was quick,
Then it was over,
But not really.
It never is,
It's not that easy,
My life,
It's not clean like ice,
More like cake batter;
Try separating out a single ingredient!

It's not the heart that wants what it wants,
But something lower and needier.
I am not in control of this
And it shames me.

I love the other.
I want to help myself.
I want to stop.
I hate myself.

I saw him yesterday,
Just a glimpse in the street,
Handsome and dark,
I felt the hunger of my id
And the plotting began.
I'm sick to my stomach.
God help me,
I enjoy him,
God help me,
I enjoy the drama,

I can't help myself.
I can't stop.
I hate myself,
There's no honour in this,
But this time next week,
I be in his bed.


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