I'm a poetry book in love with a Shakespeare play


We were two books,
Stacked on the same shelf.
In an old library,
Where requited lovers came for help.

There were a few books between us,
Never were we ever close.
There was a one-time guy who borrowed me,
Left for the girl who borrowed you a rose.

You smelled lovely for over a month,
Then the fragrance tapered away.
I was so horny for you,
From the mid of April till the end of May.

Did you notice?
I actually fell for you one night.
Thinking an amateur would put me mistakenly,
Next to you to make things right.

A silly girl placed me in the morning, 
Just across of you on the desk.
You looked so hot from there,
My patience was put to test.

I flipped, heaved and sighed,
They thought under the ceiling fan.
Those loveless people wouldn’t know,
In how many ways I desired you man.

I was all a poetry book,
You were a Shakespeare play.
An affair between us,
Wouldn’t have been such a cliche.

You used to go away,
For months sometimes.
Not that I missed you dearly,
But reading a play so slowly should be a crime.

Bless that generous lad,
Who borrowed and kept us on the backseat of his car.
That moment I heard love songs,
Being played on guitar.

Then the real moment came,
He placed me on top of you.
Not to sound all girly,
Dreams do come true.

You were a play,
But I was the real drama queen.
Oh, my unrefined ways,
Been in love with you since eighteen.

Comments

Post a Comment

Bricks, brickbats, applause - say it in comments!

Popular posts from this blog

To the woman who sleeps with someone else's husband

My poetry is not for foreplay. It's for after sex.

Here's what I learned in 7 years of blogging