lace.

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.