She plays too much

Sometimes

She gets herself on the naughty corner

Maybe much too often

When she’s on it

She likes to go on top

He knows it too

and takes a backseat

He is fascinated,almost turned on

His eyes tell her to show what she’s got

And show she does

On his lap,she is a rodeo queen roping a bull

A belly dancer ethereal and enchanted

A wind rider with hair dancing with blown leaves and petals.

She is not out to please him and he knows it

He is pleased all the same

She is quenching her own thirst

she’s had it all her life

It gets deeper each time

He can’t reach it.

And neither could the one before him

He can barely scratch the surface of it

He merely sits back with a wry smile

And lets it happen to him

He cannot satisfy it

He cannot satisfy anyone

Its better to let her have her way,

And feel used later.

He wants more than she gives

But he cannot have it

He has learnt to accept the crumbles offered him

After a more audacious man,

Has swooped in to steal and subdue her spirit.

He never talks himself into staying on the naughty corner with her

He anticipates it.

Like a vulture

He is patient,

ugly,

With the rotten ways of a smelly buzzard.

He eats the crumbs off the eagle’s talons and

lets a part of him be stolen,used and punished in the most sensual of ways.

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