The Things We Do For Love

My best, forever friend likes me to think:
She asked me, as we shared some tea post gym,
Whether you really got me to the brink:
What took me to the edge and made me sing
The song of sighs you like? What makes you own
Our lovemaking? Is it the gentle thanks
That I accord you as you start to groan
And push yourself inside me (firing blanks)?

Safety makes you distinct, in my blurred mind,
From waiters that I work with; or the face
Of the assistant who helps me to find
New groceries to please your florid tastes,
Far more than thoughts of boys between my thighs,
Fucking or licking the soft landscape that
You seem to lust for always - this supplies
Me with variety (and helps you splat)...

Particularly when I always end
With lurid tales of sweet, lesbian trysts;
(Or you fucking my best, forever friend);
Although such reveries are like the mists
That disappear with sunlight, come the day;
And bring me back to wife away from whore,
Who'll seeks out sexual favours and will play,
(For you) with tits of all those babes next door...