I don't think, I really want this...
But surely, I
still have the eyes, to perceive
that she's the kind of,
fever dream
that makes grown men, and women,
lament, and weep
for the way, her jeans
gather round, her knees, and thighs--
for the way, her eyes...
pay homage, to the ancient skies...
would you take...a ride?
And, hey...would I...?
I don't think I might...
but she asserts her swerve,
with a certain sway,
and her curves,
would serve,
as hors d'oeuvres,
for days.
Her fruity lips...
with a sparkle glaze
they trickle...dark...as marmalade.
But if harvested, late...
what's their carnal taste?
...Is she the mark, on the grave,
by which, I think...I know myself?
No...I don't think I really want this...
not a shiver, runs through me.
But, sue me...for looking,
when she's so ******* juicy...
does it consume me?
Does it titillate me?
...I don't feel me, hyperventilating?
What if she turned, to face me?
To lay me, lace me
between her thighs...
internalized; eternal lies,
to sate me,
with her flavor, to bait me
acerbic, and savory...
Her skin, burning, like a lamp wire,
and her fingertips, debasing me.
What if I, was her vampire,
and she,
the one slaying me?
A slaking queen...
aching to break, her thirst...
so, what if I staked her, first...?
Would she mortify,
like ash?
Or would she forge, a lighted path,
and make me wish,
she had, forced...my hand?
No...I don't think I really want this...
not a shiver, runs through me.
But, sue me...for looking,
when she's so ******* juicy.
Jun 24, 2025
Jun 24, 2025 at 2:22 AM UTC
I don't think, I really want this...
But surely, I
still have the eyes, to perceive
that she's the kind of,
fever dream
that makes grown men, and women,
lament, and weep
for the way, her jeans
gather round, her knees, and thighs--
for the way, her eyes...
pay homage, to the ancient skies...
would you take...a ride?
And, hey...would I...?
I don't think I might...
but she asserts her swerve,
with a certain sway,
and her curves,
would serve,
as hors d'oeuvres,
for days.
Her fruity lips...
with a sparkle glaze
they trickle...dark...as marmalade.
But if harvested, late...
what's their carnal taste?
...Is she the mark, on the grave,
by which, I think...I know myself?
No...I don't think I really want this...
not a shiver, runs through me.
But, sue me...for looking,
when she's so ******* juicy...
does it consume me?
Does it titillate me?
...I don't feel me, hyperventilating?
What if she turned, to face me?
To lay me, lace me
between her thighs...
internalized; eternal lies,
to sate me,
with her flavor, to bait me
acerbic, and savory...
Her skin, burning, like a lamp wire,
and her fingertips, debasing me.
What if I, was her vampire,
and she,
the one slaying me?
A slaking queen...
aching to break, her thirst...
so, what if I staked her, first...?
Would she mortify,
like ash?
Or would she forge, a lighted path,
and make me wish,
she had, forced...my hand?
No...I don't think I really want this...
not a shiver, runs through me.
But, sue me...for looking,
when she's so ******* juicy.
This is a highly experimental piece, following a discussion, I had. Contemplating the topic of, "could I be?" "Would I be?" I enjoyed layering the rhyme scheme, most of all. "She" doesn't exist, she was the embodiment of inhuman, female perfection my mind tried to build, broken down into basic features.
I pushed the boundaries to write outside my comfort zone, and it went rather weird. I don't think I lean that way, but it was fun to write about something completely different, in an entirely new way. Make of it, what you will, I guess? Happy Pride month, y'all.
https://allpoetry.com/Kate-the-Shrew
I cross-post from this account! It's my only other account, no other. If it doesn't include hyphens, it's Ryan. See me for proof
I'm also u/cutthroatqueen on Reddit, formerly u/Mermaidinshade. Come see me and learn what I'm about!
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