Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Sex is over rated,
Ronet said,
Le sexe est surestimé,
He repeated.
His wife viewed him with amusement,
She’d seen him in better days,
Remembered him
When he couldn’t get enough.
He dressed in his usual clothes.
The days of his flamboyancy had gone,
The cravat long since
Thrown in the bin
With the beret.
He knew she watched him,
He could sense her eyes
Crawl over him like snails,
He saw her out of the corner
Of his eyes, painting her nails.
She thought sex under rated,
Too much placed on virginity
And purity, remembering her
Mother’s lectures and the nuns
Chirrping on about keeping
Herself for the right man.
Over rated, Ronet muttered
Buttoning his shirt, brushing
Off flakes from his scalp,
Seeing her apply red lipstick,
The same toady features,
The years having got to her.
He had to tell her something.
Sex was no fun with her,
He fucked others now,
The young whores,
The young ones,
The black haired girl
With a squint was best,
She knew his wants
And desires. His wife
Studied the way
He brushed his hair,
The strokes of the brush
Going back and back,
Over and over.
He was a dud to her.
They no longer mated.
Yes, she said,
Giving him a smile,
Sex is over rated