I should not have kissed her
when she drove me
to the top of the hill that night,
although though that's all I wanted
from the moment we sat down at the bar
my gaze fixed on her lips
as she shipped her wine
or puffed her cigarette outside.
I should not have kissed her,
Maybe then, she might not have sought
Comfort in the arms of another man,
Leaving me to feel a cuckold love
“It was only a working out fuck,”
She tells me a day later,
leaving me to feel as if
she had tied me up and sat me in the corner
to watch that other man fuck her,
when I wanted to fuck her, too,
a cheap thrill, but whose,
when she can have any man
any time,
and certain doesn’t need me
to watch.
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