Womanizer

Dear Lady

Sadly, I am neither a poet nor a writer

Nor do I know anything about ‘true love’

All I know is lust.

Since there is no way to communicate my lust for you,

I thought I would write to you.

I lust you

I lust you with all the heart of a man who has never loved

I lust you

No more, no less

than a man who has never touched his woman,

I lust you like a man who would keep photographs, key-rings, coffee mugs and other sentimental paraphernalia,

Twitch at the thought of visiting the street where your house is

And sometimes cry looking at the toaster

Searching for the warmth of breakfasts consumed long ago.

I lust you as I fidget around on the pavement

Where we used to take our evening walks

Peering amidst the mud and dried green

To find a snake skin,

A hollow withered tunnel of echoing good byes

Carried away by the wind

But of course all this is not love,

For in a few minutes from now I will meet that auburn haired beauty from language class,

And we will make wild, sweaty, loud love

And our groans, our moans, our thrusts will melt away

the coffee mugs, the key chains and the photographs into the night.