I feel like having sex tonight; too bad, too bad – says my mind.
I feel like lesbian-with-honey sex (Too bad I’m straight).
I feel up for a leather face mask, but they tend to creep me out.
I feel like rolling in feathers, laughing, naked; such a silly fantasy.
I feel like taking all your clothes off (Just for the hell of it).
Stare at you; waiting, to see if you take my hand.
I know you won’t. I’m not yet your type.
(And that’s fine)
I feel like going out in search of a guy; Too bad, too bad.
“Come here kitty cat” - I cry out;
A guy comes... a dude, nobody special,
He takes me to his home; a sad little place, such a mess.
He takes my clothes off (because he feels like sex tonight)
He stares, he pokes my skin; he smells like a man.
He smells like leather and honey, no lesbians no feathers.
He takes my hand. My legs love his scent
(They want to walk towards him).
But it’s too bad, it’s all too bad.
And, as honey and leather take my hand,
I start to cry, making it uncomfortable for both of us.