Shhit: A Love Poem

The Break-Up
I didn’t wanna meet your fucken mother
I didn’t wanna meet your fucken brother
I didn’t wanna meet your fucken cat or your succulent
Left you out for telling my heart to flow into the breeze
Sleaze like a con, I told you no need I got my own
Regret
Masturbating in my sorrow
I send you Snapchat videos to make you holler
Crushin since day 1
I call you up at 2
I’m missing your hold at 3 in the am
Make-Up Sex
Find my right hand man, put your Friday night hands on me.
Choke me baby, poke me like only you can, call my bluff
I’ll even let you look at me
look at me
I’m callin you up to bring it home
I remember fidgeting as I walked you up to my room.
Shh
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