European Paper Wasp

This chorus that’s buzzing

The concept of loving

And is pressuring me to “get busy”

Can only introduce ideas and ideals

To which I have never been privy

If only I’d known,

Or had ever been shown

Intimacy beyond pride or pity

Maybe my instincts would have me inclined

To something less folded or flimsy

However, this notion

My lack of devotion

Is a talent that is rarely untaught

I flap my wings without intention to sting

But to you, I am always the wasp

And so I’m discarded

And branded as heartless

Furthermore entertaining the thought

That I should, instead, let him take me to bed

Because fuck it, whatever, why not?