Someone once told me
That he had sex with a hundred women,
A hundred and three
To be completely honest.
Between beers and white sock whisky
I asked faithfully,
‘did you love any of them? ‘
‘ I don’t even remember their names
They were all one-night stands
Setting up wasn’t even a chance’
And straight up
he drank all his wine.
As I ordered another
For the little man sitting
Right besides me,
I asked myself the same question;
All those late-night two-weeks long parties
Those crazy partners
Those sick nights of sex
Love, poetry and whiskies
Were they worth it?
Was I better?
Did I love any of them?
I do think I loved every single women I touched
Even if sex never happened
Even if it was all pure humanism,
But was I bad for not reaching for more?
Or that was the deal
In a bottle of whisky sealed?
Truth is, I love every single woman
They all have poetry inside
And poetry calls me down every time.
So, I ordered again
And here we became friends
As the clock gave five
And time, as women, had us tied up.