Rings me every time
he’s in town –
Tumbleweed, I call him –
a man I love to hate
He tints my normalcy
with neon rushes,
flames of screaming lust –
I’m better of without him
wish he’d lose my number…
well…maybe after next time.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.
Image my own. Piece is purely fiction, I promise)
Ha! Great work! Has your poetic touch on it to the fullest! Fun read.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lol. Unexpected from this old bird, I’d say. π
LikeLike
Unexpected is good when it comes to writing. You always make good writing choices, I feel. π
LikeLiked by 1 person
Their is always a next time.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lol…
LikeLike
An insightful poem representative of so many women’s experience. I’m glad it’s pure fiction!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lol. So’s my husband.
LikeLiked by 1 person
π
LikeLike
haha always “next time.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
π
LikeLiked by 1 person
And the die is cast, there will always be that next time, wonderful read.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks Paul.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure VJ
LikeLike
I’d blame it on that sizzling summertime heat, makes us all lose our minds! lol …nicely penned, made me chuckle.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Glad I could make you chuckle…once upon a time….lol.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Maybe after next time….such true lines..
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks π
LikeLiked by 1 person
Maybe after the next time……..
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lol. That temptation…..
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes
LikeLike
“Flames of screaming lust” eh? I wish for the same. Nice choice of words I say.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Lol. Thanks. Purely in an old lady’s imagination I assure you.
LikeLiked by 2 people