Eight of Spades - Foreplay
4 - Iambic Tetrameter
14 - Fourteen Lines
Foreplay (Attempted)
An invitation to your home
Is loaded with insinuation
Yet when we find ourselves alone
It seems I'm destined for frustration
I draw you to my low-cut dress
By tracing fingers down my chest
But through my futile self-caress
Your appetites stay unexpressed
I flash you a rapacious eye
And vocalize a tiny moan
I graze against your inner thigh
You check your Facebook on your phone
Should my approach be more profuse?
Can anyone be this obtuse?
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