The F Word

He called me the three letter “F word”
I asked him “Did you mean a cigarette”
– The type that you hold between the lips
And nonchalantly inhale –; Deep down I knew he didn’t
I replied too, this time though, with a four letter “F word”
And he reciprocated by asking me to F***-Off
And I looked at the ignorant bigot he was
Who couldn’t accept my faith, my existence or my reality
I had first known love a long time ago
The type that woos but breaks the cardiac septum
When you find a hole in the heart – where a woman once existed
And since a few months ago F*** fest
Was in my vocabulary – on the tip of my tongue
And on the apex of my man-Friday
My sole accomplice in earth-shattering loneliness
And in bone-quaking bliss – stranded on a beautiful island
So I looked at the impotent frame of that coward
Who labeled me with the shorter “F Word”
Smiled carelessly and asked him “If I was the F**”
“Would you like a cigarette?”



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