The Naughty Drawer

When did I stop
being enough for you in bed?

I thought we had
a healthy sex life,
not every day, but
a few times a week,
nothing to fancy
but satisfying enough.

How do you think
I felt when I opened
the bottom drawer
and found all that stuff –

handcuffs, flavoured condoms,
fishnet stockings, lube,
feather boas, chains,
whips and sexy lacy underwear
I know never came from me.

Who bought you all that stuff?

What’s his name?

Where does he live?

How much will he bleed
when I punch him,
right in the face?

Have you fucked him
in our bed? In the shower?
In my office chair?

Who is he? Where did
you meet him? How much
does it cost to live out
your fantasies with him?

Why did you never ask me?

Copyright © 2017 by Pamela Scott

This is the 1st draft of a poem from my collection Exit Wounds.

It also appeared on Tumblr.



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