Pure Romance

–by Becky WTGH

 

An ode to distance in relationships.

 

How do I fuck you through a poem?

Is it possible? Might as well try and see.

How do I start,

Do I do it slowly, gradually?

Plant the seed at the beginning,

water it in the middle–

and harvest our fun at the end?

Do you want a long warm-up,

hours before the apex,

climbing slowly, hand-in-hand.

Or…

 

Can I dive straight in,

no foreplay necessary.

Make my presence known,

make my needs the most urgent,

let me be my most predatory.

Do normal rules apply

to poem sex?

Do I take what I want,

when I want it,

because she loves to be wanted?

Do I speed things up,

then slow them back down…

Should we relax for a bit first,

maybe even

clown around?

I like it when we wrestle, when we

pin each other down.

I wish I was there with you now,

a poem is not enough.

I need to fuck you like I always do–

wild, messy, tender and–

a little rough.

I know when to stop, when to go

I know the way your body flows

I wish we could be there, together again.

So much so, I almost wish

I could send instructions to a friend.

I know I know, I should be jealous–

but I’m a zealous cuck.

 

Fucking through a poem is tricky, you see

I can’t get your shirt off

or your pants down.

Your underwear is very stuck,

from this perspective.

You say you take it off, you send me pictures

but what I find isn’t nearly as

exciting as expected.

You see, my thumb needs your cum

for me to trust you’ve been respected.

I need your body, not your mind.

I want your suit, not your soul.

Without your sweat, I am broken

I cannot be whole.

 

Did I fuck you through this poem?

Probably not, right…

Alas, I’ve tried for lines, stanzas–

soon we’ll be getting into tl;dr territory

Would you rather I wrote an epic poem

about love, romance,  pure simple ecstasy?

Why read that bullshit, when I could

write you a poem about fucking?

 

roses are red

violets are blue

I miss you, I love you

I wish we were fucking

oh, and

also

I wish I was better at talking.