CAT AND MOUSE
- Dark Poets Club
- Jul 4
- 1 min read
By Kia Maggie

‘And what about you, do you have any siblings?’
A pathetic slop so eager it’s hard not to laugh straight in your face.
So it’s a numbers game?
What would turn you on and up as fast as fucking possible?
Matching you would bulge those dopey blue eyes,
your bum to back of the sofa guise will shatter and
I’ll have you aroused at the thought of
common ground and fate and that.
No that’s not it, is it?
One less would feed into a tragic masculine need to one up
and peacock a birthright you had absolutely no input into.
I’ll query your advantage and you’ll feel so interesting
I can visibly see the engorgement of the pulse in your neck.
Or is it none at all?
I’ve got you curious now at this enigma sitting across you -
You’d think no one could know me so
every inch I give will feel like a fucking mile.
I’ll validate your comments and leave you
about a blowjob away from calling me your god damn soul mate.
Funny I was always good at maths but it’s late now
and I’m out of money and fucks of a sort.
Behind pursed lips I leave to linger the last of the beer
and trace my collar bone with a perfumed forefinger;
‘Me? I have 3 siblings – all girls.’