Flushed Love
We touch, I feel it sink in like dirreah.
"I love you"
those words squirt out like icing from a frosting tip kit,
but like a blast of steaming shit
Its a hot sweaty festering thing we call romance
It ends in a slow dance around the porcelain bowl
and as i button up my pants,
I flush away the rest of my soul.
This poem is about:
My community
My country