-Her soaked and steamy time has left his stomach to the knots.
-Her insides are happily invaded while his rot.
-She has decided,
the rush is more than worth his heart being divided.
-His only option now: Worry ‘til his mind is mush.
-But, how could his cowardly persona not be an invitation for her to live the life of the plush?
-She’s indulging in drinks, so exotic.
-The lights of pink, purple, and blue flicker those sultry glimpses of her hips, so erotic.
-That night’s rest, he’s needing for the morning shift.
-For her use, she bends, winds, and grinds, making her tight dress briefly lift.
-While groping and grinding her girlfriend’s skirt,
she’s hypnotic and coaxing the cliché, ballers, bums, and meat heads to flirt.
-Her eyes met with the guy, smelling of expensive cologne but made of dirt.
-She perched upon his lap, bouncing to bass, at a tempo sweeter than dessert.
-Of late night crimes, he bares no proof.
-It’s no excuse, though, for he needed hardly any to know her love is a spoof.
-To avoid the break, he’s lied to, more than anyone, by himself.
-While she is raced to that guy’s place,
at streaking pace, where her friend’ll pass out, in the next room with his wing man.
-This girl is unfastening his buttons, while her shirt’s draped on the shelf.
-Ironically enough, it’s not her that’s of the most blame.
-It’s his pitiful soul, that fits the pathetic role, which puts his dignity to shame.
-He cowers from the word “alone.”
-For so long, he was the king.
-He desires no life without the throne.
-One can’t deny her trickery–making a man feel reasonable suspicions are paranoia and low self-esteem.
-Now, that’s true misery.
-His kind are the future generations, warped by macho madness that was fed to us straight for the teat.
-They’re quick to fight a man, over the woman’s folly rather than to realize, they need no woman for them to be complete.
-Who could say how long his illness will endure?
-But, him trying to pretend she’s not vigorously gyrating her hips, atop the next man, isn’t the cure.