when you're there i pine for you
like a stupid little intellectual
i theorize your face

make up stories about your eyelids
how they close like a hardcover book
sheltering your wisdom from the judge

you let it spill out to me
your ***** brine
tenderizing my leathery exterior
into broken down, cured meat
you freed me with your trust
i was savory, salty with your laughter on my tongue

you've been waiting for me
but i cannot come
if we are to ever be in the same room again, together
i would smother you and oppress you with
love, tainted by imaginary things
like the fable of us
like my contentment

like your hand in mine
                                         clasping surely,
                                                                ­     silently,
                                                                ­                                                    home

She said the word frustrated like she meant it:

Sexually frustrated, she clarified

Her hobby was going down on strangers

You could ask her anything, she wouldn't lie.

I'm guessing there's a reason why she told me

And everything was working down below

But somehow now she'd dropped her little hint bomb

I decided that I'd rather take it slow

Don't get me wrong, I've nothing against *******

Or *** with strangers in nice restaurants

Or buxom beauties who wear too much make-up

I just don't trust girls who know just what I want.