"And I have known love like a whore,
from at least 10,000 more.
Then I swore when you were the last.
You were the last high"
And I lie awake in bed, recollecting snippets from the past. Well, sex, more precisely. It kills me to think that the intimacy I once found with someone will never come back in my life. What if 2014 was a sort of sexual peak?
Everything went horribly wrong, but it does not take away from the fact that there was once a man who fucked me so hard, so proper that it left some permanent scars on my body and my head. It felt liberating, raw and most importantly, real. It felt like he was helping me slay the demons of my past by inflicting the cruelest acts of savagery. But the yin to the yang was the extreme moments of tenderness that we enjoyed sometimes. It was long, emotional, intimate. I don't even look for that intimacy anymore.
What's the point.
Slap on some makeup, smile coyly.
Be a girl, flirt a little.
Show some skin, feign interest in their boring tales of conquest.
Even though I want to ask them to shut the fuck up and take their clothes off.
It's so easy to get laid.
But I don't want shitty sex.
I want what I had with him and just that.
And it's only because I know I can't have him.
My hormones are through the roof for some reason. Maybe because of the drugs? I seem to have this massive urge to swallow.It's been a while I sucked a man dry. The next person I fuck is going to get very, very lucky.
I wonder if my lovers reminisce as fondly as I do. Does A remember the blowjobs? (how else would you say it without sounding crude?) Lovers are the luckiest people on earth, those who have experienced the act of physical love. For A and me it was always very animalistic. With him there was this strange sort of comfort. I mean I actually liked blowing him. I had a vivid dream about the two of us in his car, fooling around and some. This wasn't uncommon for us. We fornicated like rabits. All the time. All the time. All the time.The antics of us deranged lovers included romps in the car, on rooftops, hotels outside the city, a fucking tent in the middle of nowhere and what not. It was different each time and strangely satisfying. I don't think I ever wanted him to pull out, on some of our god days. I really could write a novel on our sexual adventures. Unfortunately, It's all in the past now and that makes me sad.
I don't know if I'll ever find that connection with anyone else. Honestly, I don't even want to because the comedown is the worst, it hurts too much and I don't have the strength to do it all over again.
"you were the last high"
You know when I fuck the next guy, I'm only going to do it because my body needs it. I fell in love with you hard, harder than anything else in the world. To compensate I do my drugs now. Maybe if I do a lot of drugs, the pain will go away.
I don't know.
This seems to be the only way out.
Fuck them all just because I can.
I don't care if that makes me a slut.
My heart is broken, my lover's made a whore out of me.
from at least 10,000 more.
Then I swore when you were the last.
You were the last high"
And I lie awake in bed, recollecting snippets from the past. Well, sex, more precisely. It kills me to think that the intimacy I once found with someone will never come back in my life. What if 2014 was a sort of sexual peak?
Everything went horribly wrong, but it does not take away from the fact that there was once a man who fucked me so hard, so proper that it left some permanent scars on my body and my head. It felt liberating, raw and most importantly, real. It felt like he was helping me slay the demons of my past by inflicting the cruelest acts of savagery. But the yin to the yang was the extreme moments of tenderness that we enjoyed sometimes. It was long, emotional, intimate. I don't even look for that intimacy anymore.
What's the point.
Slap on some makeup, smile coyly.
Be a girl, flirt a little.
Show some skin, feign interest in their boring tales of conquest.
Even though I want to ask them to shut the fuck up and take their clothes off.
It's so easy to get laid.
But I don't want shitty sex.
I want what I had with him and just that.
And it's only because I know I can't have him.
My hormones are through the roof for some reason. Maybe because of the drugs? I seem to have this massive urge to swallow.It's been a while I sucked a man dry. The next person I fuck is going to get very, very lucky.
I wonder if my lovers reminisce as fondly as I do. Does A remember the blowjobs? (how else would you say it without sounding crude?) Lovers are the luckiest people on earth, those who have experienced the act of physical love. For A and me it was always very animalistic. With him there was this strange sort of comfort. I mean I actually liked blowing him. I had a vivid dream about the two of us in his car, fooling around and some. This wasn't uncommon for us. We fornicated like rabits. All the time. All the time. All the time.The antics of us deranged lovers included romps in the car, on rooftops, hotels outside the city, a fucking tent in the middle of nowhere and what not. It was different each time and strangely satisfying. I don't think I ever wanted him to pull out, on some of our god days. I really could write a novel on our sexual adventures. Unfortunately, It's all in the past now and that makes me sad.
I don't know if I'll ever find that connection with anyone else. Honestly, I don't even want to because the comedown is the worst, it hurts too much and I don't have the strength to do it all over again.
"you were the last high"
You know when I fuck the next guy, I'm only going to do it because my body needs it. I fell in love with you hard, harder than anything else in the world. To compensate I do my drugs now. Maybe if I do a lot of drugs, the pain will go away.
I don't know.
This seems to be the only way out.
Fuck them all just because I can.
I don't care if that makes me a slut.
My heart is broken, my lover's made a whore out of me.
