Er’

As much as I
tried I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t; I
couldn’t
possibly.

I’ll be your King
in bed
and you’ll be my
Queen Latifah

The word lover
is nothing like
the other

Her favourite fruit
is none but guava
100 species of
her and the 300 of
me – clover

I write about love
as though I’m in
love but I’m no
lover

My words intimate
like a lover, but in
bed rougher

Perceive me
weak because of
love then you’re a
gnawer

Breaking rocks
in the hot sun
the cushion to
my feet – this
loafer

You think me
smooth. Oh but
I’m a lot
coarser

Strapped to my chest
thought provoking
emotions like
a bomber

Composing at
night; like a
night-worker
but I’m no
night-crawler
I’m a highflier

Muscular man;
Chicks digging
him because he’s
the cookie monster

Cookie monster
I am, but not
Willie Wonka

Man on fire
like Denzel.
No relaxation;
all I know is
study to acquire
this title – Esquire

Everyday all day
we work to get
this paper only to
spend on hookers

Easier than ever
Poetry couldn’t
be better when
simpler.

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