Stop Faking It!

Stop Faking It!

“Stop faking it”, I bellowed to the girl underneath
“No, I am not, why will I?” she gasped with her moan beneath,
“What do I know why, trying to flatter me I guess?”
I insert out, it had only been in five minutes or less.

Jumped off the bed, with a bed sheet rolled around the torso and body
“The cocoon has only been half unravelled it seems”, at the sight smirked the lady.
Through most of my masks and cloaks her eyes never failed from piercing
She very well knew she wasn’t the one faking.

I rushed out to the kitchen tripping constantly over the nagging bed sheet.
How was it that my eyes never had the courage to confront her orbs and meet?
The magnifying view of her eyes had cornered me in,
Why did she always snatch away from me my beloved curtain?

The “stop faking it” beseech was not meant for the orgasms,
Rather it was a self-reproaching statement just for that organism that was me.
Ostensible is what appears from appearances alone,
She knew ostensibly is the only way I had lived all these years by gone.

P.S. Don’t you need an identity to have an identity crisis?