Today you try once again to leg go of a crutch you’ve held for far too long. So write this in honour to the longest love of your life, she was there always no matter where your heart would roam, you would come back to her battered and she’d be all the more willing to make you happier, but not without the sharp dry wind that subtly reminds you.
‘You dun fucked up.’
She would seem like the perfect lover but she’ll deceive you, I suppose it’s only fair when you’ve felt her hair so many times while another is sitting right there, you felt her kiss and assumed no remiss, so it’s not surprising she’s cheating on you and with that other girl too.
Then she’s not so special sitting there on the mantel but she’s got her sting in you, now try go a second without asking when you’re gonna see her again.
Then you walking into an alley and she’s dallied out and you’re tongue tied, you won’t bide your time any longer.
‘I thought you were mine?’
But in the end were all trying to pleasure this mistress.
And we all have our little tricks just to make her wink in our vicinity and stroll up casually and plant a light hearted and headed kiss on us.
And for an instant we remember why started it, this cruel love affair, there everywhere you go. But you wake the next morning and you’ll tell her it’s over, that she’s bad for you throw her across the room, and beat her, but when she’s shoots you a stare and you’re right back there, lying in bed with her on top.
Subconsciously beg her to stop, but your hand drops limp while the other remains to hold her in cause you’re so scared to lose her.
What a fuckless comfort.
You push her of when she’s done; you tried your ways to make her more playful even though the lord our saviour already knows missionary is the only thing that fills thee. Blimey you got in this again.
‘fuck how did it happen again’
you see you’re friends who steered clear of her and you remember telling them, how much she soothes your worries and cares on through.
Now how they gaze at you so glued to the alleys and lanes, hell even windows just for a chance to dance with her again. She has MJ’s moves just not his voice.
Eventually you realise reality, you’re addicted to the she-devil, you’d admit it but all attempt to level yourself and keep your distance fail. Even when you work in your butts and spliffs and your move on has just begun she don’t just begone because she misses you and your clothes still smell like her, from all those late nights when she was the only one at the end lying in your arms, locking palms.
All those threesomes she was only so gleesome to bring you to, or bring her to, can’t really tell can you?
You’ll rinse your clothes a thousand times and your hair a thousand more, but smell you will, evermore.
Everybody gave you the warnings boy.
‘Don’t toy with her! She’s poison to your mental and toxic from the first kiss silly.’
But she seems to appear everywhere now just as her musk cloud that surrounds you has dissipated; you smell it on every second cunt…
‘Oh fuck it.’
‘You’re a fucking bitch, I thought we swore an oath at the start of this shit, you promised me I’d be cool, you forced me over boundary lines to many times and I’m sick in the stomach and sick of your shit.
Your breath is rancid anyway and while you’re fucking my friends you’re mind fucking me with glee because you know you got me, harhar Tartar.
Aren’t you funny you stupid gateway whore, the fuck do I pay you for?’
‘Why do you pay me so handsomely?’
‘Because deep down I’m still addicted to the way you bring me to my knees, praying, please make this train.’
When we kiss in the rain, nothing could ever be the same.
‘Sorry I’m leaving before you ruin my brain.’
‘I hope you do the same.’