You Don't Rub the Back of My Head Anymore

Thomas W Case

You used to say it was sexy.
You’d get this gleam in your
eyes as you kissed  
me hard on the lips and  
rubbed the back of
my head; but not  
We had our laughter and
drunken songs,
but as always,
the end seeps in.
The poet in me hopes
one motherfucking thing will
last forever.
It started with
complaints, then
resentments and almost
hatred.  It’s sad.
There was a time when
the love was gooey—like  
chocolate in the sun.
We had an amazing
sexual chemistry.
we were like
dogs in heat.
We fucked everywhere:
swimming pools,
the grass,
the beach,
the hospital,
our tent, other people’s tents.
Something was
always missing though, and
sex couldn’t fix it..
The end felt like swans dying,
like butterflies burning.
I always imagined us more
like Bonnie and Clyde than
Romeo and Juliet.
It doesn’t really matter, same ill fate.
Fuck, who were we kidding?
Lovers inevitably get
their turn in hell.

  • Author: Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 24th, 2023 14:03
  • Comment from author about the poem: Check out my book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems on
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 16
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  • sorenbarrett

    Sadly this is the fate of most love or should I call it passion. I felt it. Happy holidays

  • David Wakeling

    Good times are great but they don't last. A very honest poem

  • orchidee

    The only creatures (if mankind can be called 'creation/creations too) that rub the back of my head, is me two cats! lol.

  • Introverted Sage

    When deep passion burns..
    Good one!

  • Bobby O

    In this case and those that may be similar I do indeed differentiate from the famed Smokey Robinson lyric
    “A taste of honey is worse than none at all”
    Whatever the end result , sounds like the Trip had Hilights worthwhile.
    You go Mr Case - you go !

  • Tom Dylan

    Great poem. Love the line about more Bonnie and Clyde than Romeo and Juliet.

  • Neville

    methinks this is not an unusual outcome, particularly when two became one, perhaps once too often

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