Posted by: Ron DuBour | April 15, 2018

Love Hangover~by Scot Buffington



Love Hangover

We are slightly distressed, the next day after;
a full night of Love-making, dancing, and laughter.
We drew lots last night, before becoming naughty;
to judge in the morning, first use of the potty.

One leg is numb and the other has shakes,
but you’ll limp to the bathroom, before I awake.
We’re lacking hydration, and dry as a mummy;
from way too much booze, absorbed by the tummy.

We reek of tobacco and each other’s smell;
the marks on our skins, kinky stories to tell.
Our mouths taste like something, crawled in there and died,
preserved in our throats, with formaldehyde.

Our clothing is scattered, all over the floor;
my boxer shorts hang, from the knob on the door.
The blanket blacks out, all the light from the blinds;
and I cannot discern, which pair, jeans are mine.

Underwear is on backwards, and bra outside in;
one contact is missing, glued to my right shin.
The bedsheet is stuck, to the side of my c—k;
by a natural adhesive, I missed with my sock.

One lip is chapped and the other is peeling;
from kissing for hours, our lips lost all feeling.
The hair lies flat, on one side of your head;
sticks out on the other, from our static-ey bed.

Mascara smeared, your eyes like a raccoon;
and the bags under mine, say I got up too soon.
Your necklace is tangled, all up in your hair;
I discovered odd bruises, on my derrière.

We shotgun hot coffee, to shock us awake;
and grope for the bottle of aspirin to take.
No matter how we might think, our looks give us fright;
we’re still beautiful together, from our fun-loving night.

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