by AnaLeePleasured
Cruelly playing a game of lust; not even going anywhere near any semblance of hoped for love.
The unrequited love, you justifiably bemoan is to yourself, //
Not to the man, the one to whom you still return//
After round number two or three or four of a game//
You learned to hate. It’s you, Alas. that you do not love!//
It’s you, Oh moan, that you throw to be toyed, then thrown,//
As unloved as you feel you deserve to be//
Prey, teach yourself how to love //
Every bit of yourself, and before//
You know it suddenly you will be//
Surrounded by men women and kids//
Who love you almost as you!
It's hard for women to lean the difference LUST and LOVE. Especially those full of fuck lust themselves. Enjoy the fucking and learn to love. Nice poem.
Nasty Karl