Tags
a kiss is just a kiss, base pleasures, little bliss, poem, Poetry, sonnet, truth or dare, tsk'd-tsk'd
Death then? Love now. Love what teaches. Despair
combined with sex and poor impulse control
teaches. During a game of Truth or Dare
I learned that the emotional black-hole
called my psyche isn’t good at keeping
friends. The Dare: show me base pleasures. Others
tsk’d-tsk’d. Look where it got them. Still, snogging
takes groin-stirring skill and I know what stirs
your groin, or so I thought. I got confused
and then frightened when you began to cry.
That was neither long death or little bliss,
only shame. When friends say that they felt used
that’s on you. Learn from this, fool. Don’t reply
with a sigh that a kiss is just a kiss —