It’s so very hard to look away
when a man’s masculinity is on display, at play;
a thousand times a day
holding me in sway, until upon him I prey.
Or until another one has me undone,
unsprung, my sharp tongue unwrung.
And suddenly I’m once again chasing the frictions,
of my predilections.
And the inflictions of my indomitable conflictions
have got me dreaming, and scheming,
about a strong man that needs a good reaming;
until mad with desire he finds he’s finally creaming
But don’t forget… it’s me that’s still teething.
So soon I’ll find another one, that fits like a glove
all the fantasies I’ve yet to dream of, conceive of.
Could this one be real love,
with his perfect eyes, and tender thighs? A variety of sighs
he’d realize, if only he’d give in, to my particular brand of sin.
Or until another one’s caught my eye, as he passes on by,
and with a wink, and a slink, and suddenly I can’t think.
And so I follow, and tell him I’ll swallow
all his pretty lies,
with my inglorious cries.
© Odyne La Fée 2018