How inappropriate,
she’s my ******,
cute and flexible
barely detectable,
definitely delectable.

She’s a wonderful,
super comfortable,
good dancer,
a little dangerous,
perfectly fit,
and slightly psychotic.

I’m a caterpillar
and she is
a caterpillar killer.

She is fascinating,
and good at debating.

What a dream
a tragedy
that she is
imaginary,
make believe
at least for me.

In reality she
is dating
the kind of guy
I have spent
my lifetime hating,
confident bad boy
without the brains to
back up that smack talk.

Chalk it up to
a society that
doesn’t value
the truth
but prefers
*******.