Well, they call me a flirt.
they agree, “He can’t keep it shut .
Infact the zip is ripped off and can’ t
close,
He collects bras,thongs, heels even
a hose …
And put them in a closet.a personal
collection. “
I agree to all that, it has become an
obsession.
one even asked, “Hun, can’t you
stick to one woman?
Why do keep cheating on each and
everyone? “
I answered, “because to me, none is
different from the other,
your friends ; Shiro, Julie, Connie
and Mel before her,
spent torrid nights with me on that
bed.
You knew all that and you still did.”
By Jove! She didn’t even look
flustered,
which helped cement the belief I
held.
Then she asked, “you mean you’ve
never met a girl
That made your world dance, head
spin and heart twirl? “
I answered, “Never! To me all chics
are the same,
I’m that stallion no mare could tame.
“
That was lie, in my heart I knew.
The concept of love wasn’ t, to me,
New.
I loved a woman with all me, once,
around her, my cells went into a
trance,
my heart did gymnastics, from just
once glance,
but she did it, yea, broke my heart.
one Text and my love life was spent
She smashed it to too many a piece
And she did it with such annoying
ease.
So girls, call me not a flirt,
it’s only that every piece now loves
someone different.
© Ngartia
courtesy of Storyzetu
