Sex is power, taught by even my Catholic school.
A love more physical and down-to-earth
Love has not transcended with me, the fool,
And I only watch and learn how 16-olds give birth.

Hah! an innuendo, or a phallic image
In literature is the golden egg.
So subtle, yet definitely no mirage—
Chaucer’s post for this I did not peg.
Shakespeare plays with my thoughts with a single word,
Arguing that there is something heavenly in love.
But what does he know? The 500-year old turd!
Most girls’ are loose, no longer fitting like a glove.

I hope that when sole-mate love hits me I will know full well
Just not hard enough to puncture; I want my heart to continue to swell.