Fucking and sucking the last dregs of expendable love, like suds
From the crystal mug of emotion,
Ruling every thought and action,
Unable to be reclaimed once done
Revoking certain privileges
Such as being comfortable around the significant other--
Wronged, yet unknowingly so..
The feelings then accumulate and
Fester; why doesn't this parasite.
Clinging to whatever blood-laden
Body, the warmth will bring
An immediate comfort
A cure to lonely nights
When the other couldn't be present
It sucks and it fucks only to feel
Wanted, needed; at the hands of a
Lover- another; already claimed
Collecting scraps of affection from
Many, trying to puzzle into picture.
Which hole is questionable,
But one the leech must fill to feel
The warmth, though bittersweet,
Nourishing until waning off--
Ripping off, tearing off
Exploding off until the parasite is
Left once more, searching,
Yearning, for one that might truly
Accept the love.
But for now, it is purely pleasure.
Unfortunately I am this leech
Left with sustenance fleeting.