Friday, February 14, 2014

A Hard 9 -A Poem

I once asked a lover:
On a scale
of 1
to 10,
1 being Breyer’s Vanilla
and 10 being a Cenobite,
where did I fall?

Her answer:
On nights I release control,
like taking my hands off the steering wheel,
and let her top, I’m a 4.

On nights I take control,
when I cruise through my passion,
I’m a 7.

On nights I disconnect,
when I drive idly but my foot pressed
to the accelerator,
I’m a 9.

Tonight feels like a 9 kind of night.

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