PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

traded our hatred in for sex, baby,

decided we were better as lovers than enemies

what happens when i go, boy?  what happens when i take off,

rid myself of this lousy joint (your joints were never lousy), find a new place to get my kicks?

what happens to all those spots you pulled me into,

dragged me under, made me drown in you

ah, you'd better just skeedaddle, boy,

before we get ourselves in trouble, before they

paddle my ass, or maybe that was the whole point



i guess before i go we have time for one last fling

one more silent romp during working hours

one more stoned love-fest and you'll whisper 'your knees are shaking again' in my ear before i get pulled down and don't come up for air