Your eyes are as blue as a Slurpee from 7/11

Your mouth looks like wax lips but less big and less red.

If you asked me to, I would:

Eat an apple.

Switch to inkjet pens.

Roll in the hay with you and a bear from Guangdong Province.

I spoke to your husband yesterday.

When you picked Johnny instead of me during class

I wanted to stab a million cactus needles into my face.

Just to feel something real.

But I didn’t have a hall pass

So I couldn’t.

I want you to use your executive power over my judicial branch.

When you are absent my morning wood disappears.

I am filled with that empty feeling. You know the one.

My nice black track pants lie flat.

I know you saw me when I turned in my homework last Thursday.

We will finally be alone when

I give little Johnny an ice cream cone and lock them both in an airless coffin.