You ring me up at 3am, wanting a piece
And for once there's silence in the background
Instead of the customary laughter of men.
I knew you'd fucked one of them
Or more, or all of them, for all I knew....
But which?
I didn't know. Your voice never gave away his name.
He was just another uni lad, trying to get into
Your knickers, and he'd been successful.
I just knew. You uni girls were all the same
Used me until you were out into the world
Then fucked off with another guy and left me
Hanging.
But here you are again, phoning me up
Like it's nothing, wanting a fuck,
And I'm too lonely to open my eyes
And see the wood for the trees.
"I'll be round in an hour," I say,
And I can feel that smile through the phone line.
You'll have fucked already before I arrive
And once again I'll be left
With sloppy seconds.
YOU ARE READING
Black Coffee
Poezja"Normality is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly"- Anon. In life we tenderly bloom, slowly shrivel and then die like flowers. This small collection of poetry reveals human emotion from a number of different perspectives...
