I hear what you’re saying, but look down at my penis. 

You know how well I can wield this penis. 

Our repetitively secret one-night trysts

are like Miracle-Gro to my penis. 

Imagine the muscles, the angles, the places you’ve kissed.

They’re nothing compared to where I’ve stuck my penis. 

We could welcome a third—I have a list—

as long as there are boobies and no penis. 

I’ll go to dinner without hand-holding, if you get the gist. 

Just know I’m open to those hands gripping my penis. 

You’re busy?  But baby, I won’t use my fist

like I did before.  I’ll use my penis. 

You’re trying to make me jealous.  I pretend I haven’t been dissed.

Good luck, I’ve seen him in the bathroom with his baby penis. 

I, the Rejected Fuck Buddy, hate it when I’m not missed. 

I’ll meet your friends, I’ll go on dates!  Come back to my penis.

-April 2010, written as a lark