One of these days
and days
and days
and days
the Universe will send
a sympathetic seventh chance
who wouldn't leave anyone
on read
with eyes soft and brown
evasive like a feral cat's;
nipples perfectly asymmetrical.
Until then
my brothers in Christ
the couch ain't the only thing
that's pulling out--
driven to thirst
by ancestral expectations
and mediocre excuses
for only being taken
in small doses
like a Band-Aid
we all wear
but still insist
to hide.
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