Ours

Ours isn’t star-crossed— we are the authors of this mad love, babe.   image: commons.wikimedia.org

Hot Daddy of Mine

Daddy in the sun you shine like Christ, blasphemous out of sight baby, you’re alright when you want me, oh, the way you walk this way  

Mostly Nitrogen

You breathe on me in the dark and my skin absorbs [insert science words] I never liked chemistry unless lessons were in bed I require you and your minty breath    

Slap and Tickle

Good wife cooks three squares while in the buff; her face immaculately made, hair done up. You fancy pin curls, pert breasts, and pink dewy lips ready to receive. She fucks only to placate. Why else would she spread for the likes of you?

Real at 2 a.m.

I like to be awake alone at night. Perhaps it’s a preference inherited from my mother. Can preferences be inherent? Any smarty-pants reading this post, feel free to comment the answer below; however I do know the answer to the broader question unasked. So, maybe don’t bother commenting because you’ll probably just piss me off. You

Owner and Operator

His business is loving her, and he’s always open.          

Mr. and Mrs. Dishonest

“I have to hang up now. My husband is home.” Her husband had not come home early. In fact, he didn’t even come home on time that night. While his wife spent her lonely hours wondering why she had lied to a man and cried for a man whom she’d never even touched, Mr. drank

Happy Anniversary, You

You never write me pretty words, but you brush the hair away from my face and smile; the poetry is there in your eyes, for only me to read. You never buy me flowers, but when you stir in the middle of the night, without fail you kiss my bare shoulder and say, “I love

Roses in our mouths

Salty wet flesh bag full of broken pieces– Crumpled and torn, collapsed at your feetses, You removed my bones; gathered them two by two. Then you pricked your finger, and bled red glue. You worked with precision– You’d made your decision. My skin you dried with your breath, and sealed up rips Feathered at the

Marital Bliss

  Rowena was alert when the alarm clock screamed at four in the morning. She lay still, curled up on her side, pretending to sleep, her face buried in her pillow. Adrian slammed a heavy hand down upon the clock, silencing its cries mid-beep. He rolled over and kissed his wife’s bare shoulder; she shuddered