Easy, my love,
I prefer easy love.

I'll find it in a place where the women swoon
over my desire-frosted blue eyes and granite jaw. It's not you,
it's a need that I must fulfill and it piles higher and higher within
my body, my soul, needing to express itself in soft moans which rise
louder and louder at runner's pace, those looks of longing and lust that begin
over whiskey in a smoke-filled bar, that end amid our scattered bedsheets as her and I
pass a bottle of red back and forth, listening to our soft-spent breathing, our gazeless stares at the walls
of the empty, windowless room, knowing never to see one another ever again, never again on a night like this.

Sadly, it's all I want now,
but above all, I want for nothing.
Gone away, my easy love.