Brexit

She clamps her legs around his thighs so hard
There should be no escape as his spunk votes
Secretly in her ballot box; he’s scarred
By in-out referendum; but he coats
Her womb with sperm, for this debate commends
Him to unload inside her; the movement
That led to sighs and shudders at last ends;
And, though his words were harsh - the compliments
Of “bitch” and “cunt” and “slut” have pulled her in
At every thrust, he surely can’t withdraw;
And as she murmurs “fill me” he’ll begin
To press her even harder, she’ll adore
The passion of each clench; but, then, he wrecks it -
He came before she did: it’s worse than Brexit...