The Toy Collector

I am a collector.
I like my women like my toys.
New and shiny.
I don’t have time for cuddles, if she’s broken she’s forgotten
I text her “goodnight”
If she replies in under a minute, I send her an emoji of kisses.

I am a collector.
Fine women, fine memories.
No attachments, no responsibilities.
Sly ones on twitter,
Fly ones on Instagram,
Both fly and sly on Facebook.
If she says she likes me a lot,
I send her an emoji and ask her to coffee.
She’ll say yes.
They always say yes.

Then one day, when I meet another fly one,
I drop her and pursue the other.
Like I said, I am a collector.
Why court when you can flirt?

Thing is, I found this one mama.
She is beautiful, like magazine beautiful
She is intelligent, her words cloak me with wisdom
But, when I think of her, I think I’d love to keep her,
She looks at me,
Spends her day as she sees fit,
She texts me when she wants to,
Answers my call when she feels like it.

I’m a toy collector who’d love to be kept.

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