May

May

“A hush is over everything, Silent as women wait for love; The world is waiting for the spring.” – Sara Teasdale

May

February has disappeared
and I couldn’t be happier.

She was such a frigid cunt.

A nasty whore who spread her
legs wide opened and smothered
you with her icy bitchiness.

Yes, she’s gone.

And I couldn’t be happier.

Instead of staring at those crusty lips of hers –
those white and swollen mounds of hers,
I have a new meadow to saunter in.

After February disappeared
I wandered about for two months
trying to shake her frigid grip from my memory.

From time to time I could still feel her breath
on my
neck
on my
face
on my
ear
on my
spine.

After I wandered about
I ran into my old friend May.

And I couldn’t be happier.

She was everything February wasn’t.

She was warm
and
caring
and
wet
and
inviting
and
she wanted you inside her.

May wanted you to be with her –
unlike February who always froze you out.

I ran into my old friend May.

And I couldn’t be happier.

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