LEFTOUTSIDE

I think I’m allergic to sex

The initial intimate feelings are what I crave

The transformation of our desires change

This love affair becomes a fuck-a-thon.

Our desires float in the sky

In small white fluffs

I call the Summer snow

This will not last.

It is lust we

Ride too fast

To the moon we aim

To our graves we lay

Now that the storm is over

The wind has settled

The dust has hidden itself underneath wooden floor boards

Our minds creak at pressure.

Starting with gentle sneezes

That are cutely dismissed

To panic attacks in the middle of the night about

The summer you could’ve had and the winter you won’t.

Served on soft tissues

Issues by the universe

Hard spanks from the devil

The end of a love affair.