the necklace he wore turned to a noose,
his neck stretched until he looked like a goose.
i tried to hold him up, but he fell apart and when he fell, so did his heart.
it shattered to shards once it hit the floor, blood burst forth staining the windows, walls, and the door.
in crimson, four words were written: “i tried my best.”

hungry desire: food for the flames.
burning fires come from starving dames.

ask for her number- she won’t give you her name.
pay for her dinner, and she might play your game.

show her your heart and you’ll hear “lame!”
empty your wallet, pay dimes for this dame.

she sleeps in the mirror, dreaming of fortune and fame.
smiling on the bed, she clings to the frame.

exhausted she lies on her back… so feed her more lies!
put your sparkling diamonds between her shiny thighs.

her passion grows more as the starry night dies,
but stars sparkle less like diamonds in pink morning skies.

she’ll pull you close, but can’t look you in the eyes.
she’ll disappear when you doze, before the sunrise.

into that golden light she fades; she won’t hear your cries.
searching for her is futile- better luck catching butterflies.

to meet her again, you have to wait for the night.
she will emerge from the shadows, in the absence of light.

her fragrance flows far, and for her company fine gentlemen fight.
roll up your sleeves, empty your pockets, and show her your might!

behold her beautiful neck, a wonderful sight!
but season it with jewels before you take a bite.

cotton clouds lift her up while you travel down- she will take flight.
watch her soar from the forest, catch her strings, fly her like a kite!

she’ll stay up through the night and watch you snore,
but when the rooster crows, she’ll dash for the door.

to one man she belongs to: the one that pays more.
she’s mad for the money, but she’s not a *****.

in hell he heaves his final breath,
yet untouched by the hand of death.

flies feed fearlessly on his rotting flesh-
no hand to disturb their festive feast.

undecided, uninvited, unfulfilled… but full of contusions.
body bent, broken, and covered with burning confusion.

dreaming during day, at night he seldom rests.
in races he is last and also the least.

walking wonders welcome woe-
infallible and impeccable- past him they go.

his heart hops, skips, and flips,
but for some reason, still it beats.

when he looks in the mirror, what does he see?
he sees imperfection… he sees inadequacy.

livid, lonely, longing to kiss her lips,
solo, he sails in the salty sea of sheets.

books baffle brains, from him escapes brilliance.
fighting his fate, unarmed, outnumbered, but still resilient.

black skirt climbing up her shining thighs…
she pulls it down and the excitement dies

from the men around her: “****, she’s fine!”
looking up from her phone- she’s next in line.

“may i see your id?” asks the giant,
she shows it to him- acting compliant.

female, black hair, brown eyes, twenty-one.
everything checks out- “stay safe, have fun.”

once she steps through those guarded doors,
she puts her pvc plastic back inside her michael kors.

no ‘x’ on her hand, but an ex on her mind-
she steps onto the dance floor and begins to grind.

many men manage to embrace her swaying hips,
bite her beautiful neck, and kiss her thirsty lips.

from their mouths flows a river of lies,
while hands below swim up sweating thighs.

she’s feeling ecstatic, but he wants more,
her “friends” watch as he carries her out the door.

to say “yes,” she’s in no position,
so he advances without a proposition.

the next morning when she wakes,
in funny places her body aches.

next to her he’s fast asleep,
her phone rings: bleep, bleep!

texts from her “friends” fill her screen-
things they typed, they did not mean.

“we’re worried…  where are you? text me the address!”
she gathers her things and pulls down her black dress.

tiptoeing through his apartment, she quietly closes the door.
she’s quiet in the car still, afraid of being called a “*****.”

when they asked her to come out that night, she said: “i don’t like partying anymore.”