Lover Of Lovers

I still think about you sometimes.

I wonder if you think about me too.

Do you love me still?

What if I said I love you, too.

But I'll never come back to you.

You pushed me away, threw me out.

I can't return to you anymore.

All the lies and slander.

Your desperation.

Your infidelity.

So many good things, too many bad.

Sex.

So much sex.

Oral.

Anal.

Top.

Bottom.

Left.

Right.

Side.

Upfront.

Standing.

Sitting

Lying down.

Bending forward.

Bending back.

Bondage.

Submission.

Role-play.

Or plain vanilla sex.

A rush, everytime. 

Do you remember the first million times we kissed? Under the moonlight, not a soul around. 

One could make a movie out of our lives.

But so much violence, so much pain

I didn't mind how you'd handle my body.

Paint your pictures.

Mark your territory.

Kiss every inch of it.

It felt like you worshipped my body sometimes.

It felt like I knew every inch of your skin.

Strange familiarity.

You knew my kinks and I knew yours.

Our deepest fantasies, our biggest dreams.

Was it even real what we had or was it just the drugs?

It makes me sad to think that you'd probably try and recreate what we had with someone new, as will I someday.

It makes me lose hope in the concept of "love".

Maybe I wasn't all that fantastic.

Maybe we didn't really have a connection that goes beyond words, it was probably a little fantasy I had conjured in my head.

My heart refuses to let go, make room for someone new.

They won't fuck me like you did.

They won't fuck me like you do.

Off and On

When someone takes your clothes off, piece by piece.
There's a fire burning in your lions.
You want him, more than anything in the world, you want him.

You kiss.
Your tongues find each other.
They dance.
Mate.
Connect.
Become one.

He holds you in his arms, you're in love.
All of a sudden.
Your guards drop.
You're naked and vulnerable in front of him.
The two of you know you want to make love.
For a change.
Probably your first time.
You want his love more than his hunger this time.
He treats you gently, doesn't reprimand you like the other times when you two've frolicked in public spaces, cars, rooftops, rooms etc etc.
He enters you without his guard on.
His heart is his dick.
So gentle, so loving, so satisfying.
You don't orgasm but you feel strangely ecstatic, like you're on drugs.
You feel whole for a fraction of a second and you want to hold on to that feeling forever.

You make endless and eternal love on an afternoon as the sunlight soaks in through the curtains. You're in his room, you want to be in his heart.
Hours seem like mere minutes.
The deed is done, you're back to wearing your clothes again.

Why must he tell you that he loves you when he doesn't.
He mistakes lust for love.
You mistake love for lust.
Game over.

Newfound Singlehood:Observations

1.  The ratio of man:woman at social gatherings is terrible. Even if you don't want it, you will find yourself chatting with more men than women.
2. At what point does a conversation become flirting? I am so terrible at flirting. I have the charm of a cockroach. It's sad and hilarious at the same time.
3. It is now very clear that I only pique the interest of 30 somethings and about-to-be 30 somethings. For me, it is scary because I still identify as a girl and not yet a woman. Like a game, I try and pick their brains, try to figure them out. It's exhausting though, they're tougher nuts to crack.
4. My options are endless but why can't I find a person I actually like and want to be with? I'm not compromising anymore, if you want me then you'll have to woo me, seduce me, possibly make me fall in love.
5. Nobody tells you how lonely it gets from time to time. You don't want to spend so much time choosing from available options, ultimately I'd like to hit it off with that one special person and be with them and only them. I wish I could function like a guy in these matters, I'd just fuck and forget. It's a lot more convenient that way.
6. I am totally crushing on a douchebag at the moment. Why, heart, why do you do this to me every time?
7. All these months of being single has made me realise that human beings are conceited, full of themselves and most of them are damaged beyond repair. I almost regret sticking my tongue down this one guy's throat who will just not stop talking about his ex girlfriends and lovers. OH MY GOD, IT IS THE WORST THING, to have to patiently listen to people go on and on and on about their sexual/romantic history. Why do grown-ass men do this!
8. Women are wicked. Stay away from them. DO NOT fall in love with another woman. DO NOT. Just don't, no good will come of it.

Deepest Wounds

I'd rather take a knife to my stomach than your cruel words.

Your lies.

Your beliefs.

Your self-obsession.

I'd rather get punched in the face, kicked, slapped, bruised.

Like I have been so many times before by men, boys, monsters etc.

This superficiality around me makes me so sad.

Nobody cares.

Nobody loves.

Nobody lives.

Nobody believes. 

It's unfair that I feel all these feelings so deeply and most people don't.

It's not a fucking superpower, it is a curse.

Over the years, I've learnt to abandon my firm belief in the fact that someone will come and rescue me from my endless tragedies. Someone will love me slightly more than I love them, for a change. Someone will fix all these holes in my heart, if nothing else. 

Disney movies, however, are not real. Real life is cruel. People are cruel. I can't fathom why, but they are. I guess everybody is too involved with themselves to care about anybody else. It's incredibly heartbreaking.

Sometimes I wish I could physically feel all of this pain instead of this sinking feeling in my stomach.

I am tired.

I am so tired.

Of being this cheerful.

Like nothing is wrong.

When in my head I've devised a million ways to kill myself.

I want to die.

I want to die.

I want to die.

I want to die.

I want to die, please, universe.

I don't want anything.

I just want to die.