Faith-Less
 
You write to tell me of your latest
drunken weekend, of how you read
some poems and met a man and
danced by yourself and how a
beautiful blonde asked if you were
       (hopefully)
a lesbian and how you got your brains
fucked out by this nameless stud and how
you came five times and how the blow
rocked and the lines were endless
but how you still love me because
anyway it’s only sex and how your
heart still belongs to me after all.

One Question.

Ever stop long enough to ponder 
whether MY heart still belongs to you?