A dial tone echoed relentless anger,
after the words “Fuck Off”,
disseminated into the atmosphere.
No longer content with being a “Fuck Toy”,
Toya spit inebriated venom into his right ear.
A tear hit her Double D Blouse,
as life on the plantation was no longer allowed.
“Joy” was yearned but incomplete as a “Fuck Toy”.
After Party text messages,
influenced by a “Liquored” mentality,
always lead to the usual sexual favors,
their only “TRUE” reality.
The eventual passion to love this man,
was struck by segregation.
Only the water fountain of “Lust”,
could be shared in this situation.
Ted sat on the corner of his bed,
the corner of an emotional ledge.
In his hand,
the Blackberry stood motionless.
Afraid of true commitment,
He knew his “Fuck Toy” was now broken.
Chances of tasting that pudding again,
appeared to be hopeless.
She wanted him more devoted.
He wanted her more focused,
on his selfish desires.
A forest fire started to retreat.
Wood burns,
as smoke escapes his chimney.
Waking up from a deep sleep,
Ted realized “Love” was his new enemy.
The “Fuck Toy” had moved on.
“Fuck Toys” are temporary-
“Fuck Toys” at times are necessary-
“Fuck Toys” serve a purpose,
and generally become stagnant in “Time”.
When the Titanic hit the “Iceberg”,
We know there will be a sinking of the ship.
Each person serves a role in our lives,
Most “Fuck Toys” are destroyed,
never manifesting into a “Relationship”
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