Be my Calypso!

I know the doc told me to sleep,

thought I’d behave, made you delete,

that hot pic of you reaching back—

damn… wish it was me going that deep.

Now you’re gone, off as Calypso,

leaving me here with thoughts I can’t slow,

hands still full, yeah you know,

caught in a loop, I just can’t let go.

Looking down, what do I see?

A view that’s only meant for me.

Something hard, something wet,

thinking of angles you ain’t seen yet.

Then it hits me! Better instead:

Skip the pic… I’ll text you instead.

A drink in your hand, lost in the crowd,

music is playing, voices are loud,

you check your phone, in the middle of the scene,

caught for a second, light on your screen.

It’s not a pic, nothing to hide,

just a poem that slips through your mind,

Line by line, it builds up the heat,

no proof, just thoughts we get to keep.

Reminiscing , knowing how it could be,

Instead of the pink dildo, yes,

it should have been me.