Jealousy, Love, and Imperfection | Poetry One-Shots

The Dirty Bastard

The Dirty Bastard's at it again,

Spreading this sinful feel effect;

I think about where it all began,

He was a new feeling- a side affect.

Now he's changed,

He's more comfortable;

It's a little unexplained,

I'm just another breakable.

That night at the game,

Just another example of him breaking the plot;

The intensity burned like a flame,

He asked for a something- a shot.

My purity is shattered,

As you wish for my innocence;

On cue my thoughts scattered,

Leaving me in disbelief or in-adherence.

My mind wonders to the devil,

As you lead me a stray;

You take my heart in retrieval,

Causing me to want to stay.

My mind is full of confusion,

This new feeling of arousement;

you are but an illusion,

Drowning in this sea of astonishment.

I look into your ocean orbs,

Their icy stare- so bold;

The sight as It absorbs,

Stories start to unfold.

Your nothing but a dirty bastard,

Playing tricks on my weakened soul;

All tricks you've mastered,

Will end the game with a nasty fold.

The end.