Why Pay for What is Yours?

Is this a bribe, a chocolate cookie?
Oh, it's warm and very good,
As was the walk, and then the
Sex, and how I thrill each time
You run your index finger up
My neck, and how I feel at home
In here, inside your kitchen,
Windows fogged, upon a stool,
Eating cookies. Still, I think
That you should stop, as I'm
Already bought.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 20 times
Written on 2013-02-04 at 12:37

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