The Morning Match Up

Poetry: A Sports Fanatic Lover, Equates His Lover's Loss to a Wrestling Match

"The Morning Match Up"

I so miss that good morning smile
But, not so much your good morning breath
well just a bit

I do miss that blazing warm snuggle as
you’d crawl on top and there proclaim your victory over me

I even miss those little nips you’d take
about my jawline and neck, those I would proclaim to hate

I miss our morning wrestling matches the ones that always
left that infernal love musk pool
Oh then, it would turn freezing cold in an instant

Shoot to a commercial break, our sponsor would say; if we had one

The bell rings

 

I miss struggling and fumbling to get out of that torn up bed
Was not much sleep gotten there, when we first begun

Wasn’t much rest given near the end
litter everywhere; the clean up crew made, a clean sweep

But, if ever I had a chance to go back
I’d desire to go to that old apartment, above the old movie-house
That California King sized bed, that was our arena

The only thing missing was the turnbuckles, a referee, and a bell

 That is where we first committed to each other
Before life became a living hell

We waited some time before we got together
a love match well worth the wait

A promoter’s dream everything fell right into place, every kiss on cue
this was the main event
But, no championship was ever won, no golden belt, you would tag out

 A deadly game true to the hurt
Such a blissful lift it gave such height
How could I survive the fall

Well it’s the continual hope for the re-match that’s all

A thought by Sinbad the Sailor Man