On Tuesday there's Trent;
young, but old enough
innocent letters, calls and lunch dates.
Not once can he speak direct.
I smile at the sight of his cheeks
turning a delicate shade of pink.
On Thursday there's Brian
Big, boisterous
exuberant, self confidence
I respect.
His art, a carefully spun web of lies
as he paints poetry upon my lips;
He's safe, he's secure.
Easily I could get lost
within his warm embrace,
but, alas we need our space.
Ken visits on Friday
Tight, muscles, perhaps a brain.
His hype I immediately saw through,
unlike others.
He has no qualms about what he wants
His requests voiced with
thunderous applause
and physicality.
he stirs excitement
from deep within,
while a red light cautions.
My requests?
To live the moment.
Commitments? I do not need;
Fun? oh yes.
When do we start?
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