I should not have kissed her in the car
When she dropped me off on her way home.
The scent of beer clashing with that of white wine,
She so gracefully sipped, I should not have kissed her
And then what happened next would not have happened,
And she need not have reported it to me later over the
phone,
How she needed to find someone to fuck, to work things out,
While I found myself the frustrated cuckhold hearing the
Nitty gritty details that only made me jealous,
She finding the most dangerous man possible, a man
She claimed he claimed had been falsely accused of rape,
Letting him go – as Star Trek might have said – where no man
Has gone before (at least, not me), racked with jealousy,
While she seemed puzzled as to why when all she needed
Was someone she could fuck not love,
It didn’t mean anything, although I could not tell her
How it meant something to me, worse with me envisioning
It all in my head, like a sissy locked in corner condemned
To watch it all unfolding before me.
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