Cold, Dark, and Handsome
I like my men cold, dark, and handsome, you say,
and I tell you I have the cold and dark parts
down pat, but I struggle with the handsome bit.
You shrug and let me in anyway, most likely
figuring I’ll get better-looking the more you
drink, but that isn’t going to happen, my dear.
You’ll have to settle, I’m afraid, which I know
makes you cringe, but there’s nothing to be done.
So your core temperature plummets as I wrap
my arms around you, and the light bleeds away.
Before your eyes close, you whisper, You’re not so bad.