a woman loves lace more than a man.
a woman loves masturbation more than a man.
she knew for sure; sex was a crime she had yet to commit
but she had no man.
she ended up in a daze of pot
she ended up in a daze of red wine
the glass shattered on the floor
and so did her slippery fingers.
men hate women
men seriously hate women
she knew for sure; her dry underwear spoke of so
but men hate women.
the cigarette planted on her lips
should\'ve been on his mouth.
but he was nonexistent, as so was his sex life,
but hers was sparking a flame anew.
lace was something men couldn\'t have.