The Arab world is a sexually frustrated place. This could very well be that their most acclaimed form of poetry is the ghazal, which typically describes illicit, unattainable love. It gets a slight modernization here on Darkives, and we hope you enjoy it.
by Drew Kelly
My darling, you ask if you are worthy of new pearls,
Ones that would make your girlfriends say, “Who got you those? Drew? Pearls!”
But dear, you haven’t warranted even a new pair of shoes,
The way you complain when you gulp my goo pearls.
Plus, you never lick the scrim, nor ever play with the balls.
Grasp them in your hands, alas, two swollen blue pearls.
And if once, just once was I allowed expulsion on your face,
You could merely glance down on your milky white canvass and view pearls.
To make matters worse, I’m forced to always take you from behind,
So you can’t look around to see my face or what I drew, pearls.
On more than one occasion I’ve even faked euphoric pleasure
And then went online so I could do what I needed to do, pearls.
But you caught me and lectured me about how you should be enough,
Until I saw the fetish site you frequently click with a teen doused in group pearls.
Now, I don’t say a word about munching your oyster even if it’s unkempt,
Silently burying my face for an hour, finding dissolved, crude pearls.
I don’t even bitch when it’s that time of the month and after being denied sex for a week,
I’m sent out to buy tampons. I already know what type, too. Pearls.
I admit moderately enjoy the sex, honey, but I know I don’t love you.
So I’ll just keep having sex with your hot nympho sister and buy her, instead of you, Pearls.