the pink sink

Pink Sink  

The house I bought was owned by a woman
her bathroom was pink and a faint whiff of
womanhood lingered: and I got an affinity to
the pink sink. It was the only, as I lived alone
at the time, that saw my many erections and
subsequent ejaculations.

This unfit love affair was too much to bear
for the poor sink; developed a deep crack and
leaked. I decided to go for a white bathroom
and called a plumber. The white sink looked
innocent like a nunnery´s loo. No, I could not
do it as it felt  like to outrage to innocence,
which proves pink is more, sinfully sexy.

I often dream of my pink sink something not
properly expressed between us, and I remember
the callous way the plumber through my sink
on the dumpster, I couldn´t say: be careful with
my lover. Now my bathroom smells of manly piss
and open toilet lid.