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She was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.

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Artist Myself Poetry Sex

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She wanted romance. I just wanted to fuck the stars out of her eyes.
TONY COBLE

Eyes Myself Romance Sex Stars
I messed up a lot of things. I called it poetry.
TONY COBLE

Call Mess Myself Poetry
With her, the world becomes art.
TONY COBLE

Art Herself World
Women are beautiful. But some are made of hell.
TONY COBLE

Beautiful Hell Woman
Always falling but not for anything.
TONY COBLE

Attitude Fall One Liner
In an endless universe, she needed space.
TONY COBLE

Herself Need Space Universe
Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes, it’s just poetry.
TONY COBLE

Poetry Silence Word
He opened her cages, and freed the things inside.
TONY COBLE

Cage Freedom Myself Open
I never drink in the morning. Mornings are for drugs.
TONY COBLE

Drink Drugs Morning Myself
She’s like a jar of butterflies, waiting to be opened.
TONY COBLE

Butterfly Herself Open Wait
I’m just a daydream. I don’t even know what I really am.
TONY COBLE

Dreams Existence Myself
Poems are a nice way of saying fuck you.
TONY COBLE

Poem Talk Voice Yourself
She was simple. Like a poem, and always dressed in sunshine.
TONY COBLE

Herself Poem Simplicity Sunshine
I wake to find her there, with glowing eyes and tangled hair. She is my sunrise.
TONY COBLE

Eyes Glow Hairs Myself Surprise Wake Up
Break me. Until there’s nothing left and I’ll be free.
TONY COBLE

Break Freedom Myself
She wanted love. So I fed her, inch by inch.
TONY COBLE

Fed Herself Love Myself Sex

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