Image for the poem The Clause

The Clause

HIs sex spoke volumes without
One word uttered  
His rod filled volumes  
Soaked my aches in presumptuousness  
I'm sure he heard me stutter  
Something incoherent    
Driving such a hard bargain as  
He staked his claim  
Facetiously I'd complain  
How it sucks to be buttered so easily  
By a fucking look  
He knew how I like to play the blame game  
How the tension kept my  
Pussy wet  
I want to say  
He took my agency  
But time and again the end result  
Was always the same  
I'd suck the residue of us off of    
His veined repose  
Validating his vanity while indulging    
My veiled insanity  
Half crazy, half hazy  
The clause will always be what it is  
He's the cause and  
The cure  
And I am his fine print
Written by 3rdEYErising
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