Au Contraire

Go go go for quatrains! My, I'm a pervert.

“Au contraire,” he groaned through lips

That lighted upon peppered skin;

A snow flake gallingly cold, but

Frozen in Their once frantic heat.

 

The Crooner dragged himself away;

On the one hand so far he’d gone,

On the other hand, it was wrong

      And flat being with him—to stay?

 

It was indeed pure fallacy.

      It was, yes. No. Maybe? D****t.

Wasn’t it some mussed ecstasy?

      No, it couldn’t. Right, it isn’t.

 

Look, the boyish grin; it’s for him.

      The Crooner dares not speak the name

But it’s there, heavy to the brim

      And spilling over all the same.

 

Look, the lanky exterior,

      But his movement swiftly flowing,

Combing the roots of lengthy hair,

      Not quite a dull look gathering,

 

But Crooner shutters, and disclaims

      “For once, I don’t know what to say.”

As if mundane, the other laughs:

      “Au contraire,” he murmurs. “You have.”

Author's Note

Really, I'm disgusting. You don't really need to comment on this.

Reviews

[Sara Henry Heistand]

I'm so nasty. God bless them if they ever saw this. It'd be years of therapy.