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Two and Six
She became two times my lover;
once under the sun, twice in my
bedroom with the window open
as the moonlight radiance
illuminated the scene—
lust was the scent in the air.
Three is the magic number she
lives by before she offers her
body with a sexual appetite for
destruction; I kept count,
penetration was on the fourth
date—
pure unadulterated raw sex.
I like the smell of purity in the
air like fresh brewed coffee in
the morning to start your day.
A self-proclaim free bird; a
blue bird imprinted on her
body confirms her freedom.
One and five she did it for fun—
Five to one lucky I am to have
come out alive.
Many have died under her
claws.
Two and Six and between to get
her fix—Six and Two a
promiscuous free bird had no
clue of my intentions.
The morning came with the
Rooster’s crow next to me she
laid. Cock in her hand ready to
score like a fiend for black tar
she shivered for more—
Two times my lover. Six times
fucking, she is better at sucking.
When she asked for the Sabbath
I rebuked her in the name of the
Holy Rooster whose cock must
rest on that day.
She flew away in a demonic rant
speaking in tongues; she is now
known as a Raven.
I have not seen her since.
