Send me a photo,
of your “oh so perfect” dick.
Like i’m trying so hard,
in my life to rise one.
And I don’t quite understand.
How many a man doesn’t get the fact,
i’m single not desperate.
I couldn’t do face to face,
many guy I met I hate.
Pubs I so rarely go to,
pulling kisses from strangers like i’m a feeding succubus.
Pouring the drinks like i’m dying of the thirst.
The taste I don’t now whats worse.
The re-rolling tongues I wrap my own around,
Or the shots that burn going down.
I couldn’t swipe right enough the numbers ever growing.
Me knowing well they swiped cause my killer curves.
My harsh tongue displayed like its a prize,
not the curse they both bring.
Cause i’m sick and tired.
Of my vaginas desires.
When my mind craves so much more.
Than the boy toys I push out my door.

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