I read your story
the other day
about how shitty your date was
apparently your other dates were better
got you drunk
stoned
fried
opened your mind 
to new ideas, new positions. 
you uncrossed your legs like flower petels
as they clambered on the joyride
fucked the shit out of you
drank your nectar
told stories about you.

It makes me sad
that I didn't get to taste you
let alone play with you.
it makes me sad I was
looking for something simpler,
fleeting.  
Like your soft scent as you were sleeping,
how beautiful you were.