Poetry,  Speaking My Mind

playing games

all this is, is a fling

i remind myself as you grab my waist

all this is, is a fling

i repeat in my head as you hasten

to pull your shirt over your muscular back

allowing my fingertips to explore the expanse of your chest

inhibitions, we lack

all this is, is a fling

i feel the words form in my mouth

but then your tongue pushes its way in

knocking them out

your body forces me down onto your bed

your body covers mine

and you seek to pull apart my threads

all this is, is a fling

i grapple with the meaning of those words

because i constantly seem to forget

my heart subverts

these fucking words in my head

your lips are kissing and sucking down my body now

i’m so hot and turned on now

you’re torturing me

both physically and emotionally

why can’t you fucking stay?

why can’t you please fucking stay?

all this is, is a fling

i clench my teeth when i remember

that there is no future come the spring

because you’re leaving at the end of december

this is just a fling, Vic

i finally accept it

and every time i do, i feel sick

but then that feeling is quickly replaced with elation

© 2015 Vic Romero

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