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Words Are Cheap (Sex Is Better)

Bit different from my usual takes on life. Be warned, I'm writing this before I write this poem, so I don't know how it's going to turn out.

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"Words are cheap," she said.

"Sex is better," he said.

"What makes you think that?" she asked.

"Well, for starters-" he began.

She was sitting beside him on the couch, cuddled up beside him. His arm was around her waist, small at the time. His chin was on the top of her head. She looked up and thought about how much she loved him. She only caught bits and pieces of his thoughts because she was too busy admiring him. He finished, and as he did, he asked a question.

"So, would you ever have sex with me, babe?"

"No. Words are cheap," she said.

"I know that. I just told you how sex is better," he said.

"No, you just defined how words are cheap," she pointed out.

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did."

"Tell me, how did I not just explain how sex is better. Babe, you're just fucking with me, aren't you?" He was getting a bit edgy, she could tell.

"You just told me how words are cheap and how sex is better, yeah, but the answer to your question is simple. Words are cheap. My answer is no. Because, you'll scream out how much you love me while I'm in bed with you, but after that, your words mean nothing. Sex means something, you told me that. But words, words are cheap. So leave me now or deal with me," she explained.

So, he got up from the couch and left. She didn't cry, didn't care. Words are cheap. Sex is better.