You think you’re slick
with the games you play
and the charm you think you have.
One moment doting
and the next ignoring
because the depth of your love
is as shallow as a puddle on the ground.
I’ve timed when you come around,
sniffing for the ***** in heat.
A constant merry go round of frustration.
But I have news for you,
the only cycle I am on
is my own.