I woke her up
this morning,
with kisses
between her legs.
And I told her that
I love her,
the only way
that I know how.
I ate her out
and fucked her
good, until
she said “ow,
“that hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Your dick.
“It doesn’t feel good.”


“Yeah,” she said,
“I think I might
“have an infection.”

“Well I was just
“eating you out,
“am I gonna get something?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you
“stop me?”

“I don’t know.”


She looks at me
with sad eyes.
“Do you still
“love me?”


49 responses to “Kisses”

  1. Perspective makes me inhale deeply. You’re playing this nonsensical mayhem role that makes me feel lighter about my pain. Heck. It doesn’t even matter anymore. On one hand, I’m like, that’s wrong, Lou, figure it out. On the other, I’m like that’s a story, and I feel detached from it. Maybe I can be detached from my story as I am yours. Heck, mine is similarly painful, though I would never judge your story, because I feel like yer a big boy and will make decisions that you want to, and that both you and her have the potential to figure it out and follow your hearts and maybe someday live for the greater good and use your life for making something beautiful. Your life just seems harsh to me. Mine is too, in a different way. I hurt myself over and over again because I couldn’t let go and forgive myself. We must move on, but we must feel in order to do so, and to be honest, about our stories and not hide them in the crypt. I suppose it’s about letting people in again, like yourself, Lou, and to accept my fallibility.

    Liked by 2 people

    • right on, thanks for the comment. idk if ill ever really figure it out, but who knows, maybe i will. either way, it’s a story to be told, just like yours.

      Liked by 1 person

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