According to her
She’s a walrus.
With a two inch waist.
The wind whistles by
As it passes through
The space between her thighs.

Mind the gap
Your mind whispers.
You listen to her guilt
Over that last burger.
And your mouth twists.

Wide open eyes
As you sweat in pants
A little too tight.
And dream of mermaids
In a sea, so light.

She doesn’t deserve to be upset.
And you want to tell her so.
Chest widens
Breathe In
Her chin trembles.

You can’t be mad.
She’s trapped too.
So you sigh,
And think about gravity.
9.8
Meters
Per
Second.
Squared.
(K.R.S)