The man-whore syndrom – K.B

The man-whore syndrom

 

 

Buying and selling,
Body, souls.

The market’s open.

She lingers for
A kiss,

His eyes wander
From man to
Man

Looking
For a challenger.
******
Hunting,
Daunting,
Haunting,

Nothing
Really
Glamorous.

Love was
A caress,

Not a deal.

Of course,
There is
A part
Of romance,

But no treachery.
*******
As the pen
Falls on the
Paper,

Every drip
Of it
Reminds
Me of
Rain.

The rain.

The showers
Of Gold,

A sweeping
Langor

Reviving
The earth,

Comparable
To sleep,

O soft kitty,

Pur-pur.
******
Rain.

Showers of
Gold,

Taking a peek
Through the door

To look at joy,
Clad with its best
Outfit.

I was, well, glad
To see her,

Although the weather
Was sad.

She entered,

Lazily dancing,

Then vanished
In my living room.

She left me dreamy.

In her trail,

There were
Confettis

Still resting
On the sofa

When I woke
Up from my
Daze.
*******
The reverie
Was a bracket,

The mind was asleep,

She came nonetheless

Although thugs from
All kinds

Were roaming around.
********

 

K.B

 

All rights reserved. 2018.

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