Site icon Ifrah Waqar

“These Bad-Boy-Gentlemen…”

I seek your rough touch…
One that will leave me weak and yearning…
My lips exhibit a faint smile…
As I recover from your ravenous moves…
Until you return for a second helping.
As I shake in our sheets…
Shiver under your claws…
You continue to push the throttle.
You find no need to tell the world…
Of our congress…
No need to put on a show…
And hide behind all the lies.
I am the naïve girl from next door…
And you are the bad boy I need…
You play distant and I play easy.
The vile words that fall from your bluestocking…
Press onto me…
And push buttons only you can see…
Scrape out malicious intentions I never knew I had.
You hold the door out for me…
Stepping through…
I notice your sly smirk…
As you wait for a moment or two…
Before you join me in oblivion…
I sink my fingernails in your shoulder blades…
And hold on tight…
Because when these…
Bad-boy-gentlemen types…
With rolled up grey sleeves…
Decide to make love…
They leave you breathless…
Make you relinquish control…
The way the others will…
Never be able to!

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