Sorry, I can’t squirt

A poem about porn.

© Unsplash

For you, my body is temptation,
What’s going on after the flirt?
But you have a different expectation,
A different relation to sensation,
I’m sorry, I can’t squirt.

There is judgement to my lust,
What’s going on, take off my shirt!
But when I come, it’s not enough,
A male-gaze climax — betrayal of my trust.
Sorry, I can’t squirt.

And it should not be the climax of our story,
What’s going on under my skirt.
But for you it’s kind of mandatory,
A must-have in the hole of glory.
I can’t squirt.

My body is fully my concern,
What’s going on, why am I hurt?
But why do you define how I should yearn,
While you reject that you should learn.
I’m not sorry, I can’t squirt.