Sylvie Hill

APPALLED

I was appalled.
Fine, fair enough even if I was the one that started a conversation about that stuff.
It was my lack of a sex life I was allowed to talk about.
I was the one that started divulging how I was begging for it and gagging for it in a relationship that had gone south.
I was the one saying that after all my supporting him, least the guy could do is put out.
I was the person relaying the curse of the discarded and how easy it is to become adulterers
Because I was she who was talking of a he who didn’t seem to crave it as much.

So what the hell right did you have to ask if I like to come hard?
“Do you like to come hard,” you asked, just laid it on the table like the lighter you used to light our cigarettes.
Like you just flopped it on a base like a flaccid penis on a night stand or table
Probably you make it with lots of girls,
My friend could tell.

“You always go for the underdog,” my mate said, saying I should do better.
“Always the dark horse for you, girl,” he said as his mate got a little closer.
Confused me as I thought about the singer but then the ‘kind guy’ right beside me.
Here’s one good choice for a man who’ll care
And the other who I know could ravage me.
Kind man, beside, seemed to intrude on space, too near she.
Forward man seemed to hover back, at the same time already inside me.

© Sylvie Hill