Count On Me To Count On You: AbacUS

We’ve seen each other
twelve times now: so far
we’ve had sex seventeen times,
drunk twenty two bottles of cheap wine
and one bottle of decent stuff
we stole from the bearded bloke
next door
who has claimed, six times to me alone,
to be a statistics boffin
but personally I think eight out of ten
boffins wear false beards
‘cos they don’t want to be brainy
they want to be Father Christmas,
except the mad ones who want to be God.

We’ve done it nine times in your bed,
twice on the bedroom floor,
(although one of those times was when
we fell out of the wardrobe),
once on the dinning room table
and once in the garden shed,
after which I had to remove
two splinters from your bum.
There was the three times on the settee
including when you distracted
me from ‘Match of the Day’
with an extremely slutty
striptease performance,
and once on the stairs
when you suffered carpet burns
and a bruised coccyx.

During all this you’ve
murmured “oh!” fifty seven times,
sighed “oh yes!” thirty five,
shouted “oh my god! yes!” eighty two,
and screamed “no not there!” twice.

We’ve shared five baths, two meals out,
four takeaway pizzas, one vindaloo curry,
watched three films, two nights clubbing,
had nine hundred and sixteen kisses,
cuddled for two hours twelve minutes
and sixteen seconds,
including when I held onto you for forty
seven minutes and twenty seconds whilst
you shed thirty nine tears
but I’ve no idea why. On fifty one occasions
you’ve told me you loved me;
I’ve said ‘I love you’ seventeen times
but who’s counting.

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