No More Sadistic Love Stories

I kept crawling back to his sandpaper door step, desperate for one last taste of ether.

His poetic sexual convictions had me tied up in a phone chord of confusion.

Now tell me please, how had I never been teased like this before.

Worn out knees to the bone, I prayed to bleed dry of my ghostly feelings for him.

Praise God, that the mood dried up and we both withered back to our divine decree.

Resurrected from his undertaking I proclaimed “no more sadistic love sissors cutting at my heartstrings.”

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