Pick Your Poison

I know you want to make love to me,
but I’m in the mood to fuck.
I know you want to whisper the sweetest
of sentiments in my ear, but I don’t want to talk.

I’ve been wondering what you would taste like
for a while now.
I’ve been aching to know what it would feel like
once you get inside.

I haven’t danced with the Devil in a very long time.
I’d like to keep it that way,
but boy, do you tempt me.

Sex with me being your desire but not a demand
only turns me on even more.
Knowing that you wanted me without making it a
priority to have me, makes me wet.

When you finally came clean,
I knew that trouble was rounding the corner.
I guess it’s only a matter of days before I toss
the red flags out the window
and receive the consequences with open arms.

The angel fighting to be heard asks me “Is it worth it?”
To which I reply “It never is.”
I am very selective with the poison I pick,
and it just had to be you.

written November 11, 2019.

All Pleasure, No Peace.

I’m only used to being loved halfway.
I don’t remember what it feels like to be poured in, to the brim,
spilling over because my heart cannot hold all that’s been given.
I’m only used to being touched as an object, not as their one and only.
Men have used sex as a form of entitlement,
which showed me they thought I was worth penetrating,
but not worth protecting.
They brought me pleasure, but couldn’t bring me peace.

written March 24, 2018.

Another "Morning After"

I can barely open my eyes.
Do I even want to?
Regret has spilled onto the sheets,
and sorrow has seeped into my pillow.

When you left this morning, 
I hope you took all of my feelings with you,
but I’m sure that you dismissed them,
because you do the same to yours.

I don’t know how we came to this point,
where we keep giving and giving, just to have nothing at all. 
Maybe we like watering what died a long time ago.
Maybe it’s because we hate the sound of goodbye.

written January 16, 2017.

For the First Time

There was a time when I didn’t want anyone’s arms
around me but my own. 
The thought of a man embracing me one moment
just to leave me in the long run, caused me to become reclusive. 
Then came you.

When you touched me, 
you told a story. 
Your hands meeting my skin
served as the segue into my soul.

Every crease, dip and curve  
were points for marking. 
You kissed my scars and traced my stretch marks.
You knew that my temple was my territory,
but you never made me feel like an object
for wanting to see what was inside.

Looking back, 
I’m not resentful. 
Tearful, but not resentful. 
I miss those moments, 
when a tickle turned into love making, 
and how you’d hold me through the night.

I’m not mad at you,
because for the first time in my life, 
it wasn’t just sex.
You felt me beyond the physical. 
You wanted more than just a release. 
You poured into me,
and exchanged your love for mine.

written November 8, 2016.

Heaven and Hell

I guess I wasn’t that mad while you were inside of me, huh?
I wanted to tell you how much I can’t stand you,
but I was silenced by your stroke.

You come to me with a full mouth and empty hands,
but I am so smitten by the words you string together
that I ignore what you lack.

You and I both know we have an expiration date;
one that I have to implement myself. 
I’ve stalled this departure way too many times.

We should’ve ended already,
but it’s not that hard to tell,
that I’m in love with your heaven,
and I’m in love with your hell.

written November 5, 2016.

First and Last

I’ve got THC in my lungs
and Hennessy in my heart. 
My eyes are wet from wondering if tonight will be our last. 
I like it best this way.

I cling to you - a sign that I’m weary.
I kiss you, as if the moments to come will plant us a world apart. 
You ask me what’s wrong, 
and I respond by stripping down to skin.
Now is not the time to talk.

I close my eyes and whimper as you have your way with me. 
You fuck me like you already miss me.  
You make love to me like you care.

I grow closer towards my climax as you pick up the pace. 
You’re hurting me, but pain is passion after all.
My eyes search yours, and before I open my mouth,
“I love you” filters into my ears.

My lips part in awe,
and in a fraction of a second, my hands are caressing your face
as your kisses smother my cries. 
I’m hungry for you.

For the first time ever, you fill me up as you finish,
and a pool of pleasure collects underneath me. 
You collapse onto me and your body rests on top of mine.

I savor this newfound splendor, 
knowing that we were always a game of risks. 
Yet I remain silent as reality sets in.
This is no happy ending, this is a goodbye.

written August 11, 2016.

A Lifetime Kind of Love

I enter another a dimension as you make your way inside of me.
I don’t travel down old roads but I like the way this one feels. 
You touch me in places you were first acquainted with so many moons ago. 
It’s amazing how my body can’t help but make magic with yours.

We didn’t miss a beat,
but it’s clear that we missed each other,
and I’m sorry that for all of those months
I hid myself from you. 
I’ll exchange my scars for yours
if you’re willing to show me all of the places that the pain still resides. 
They say you can’t get healing from the one who hurt you, 
but I’m here to prove them wrong.

The crazy thing about our story,
is that neither one of us wanted it to exist.
Ink spewing from the same fountain,
as we fight for the narrative’s control. 
There are people from our past, and even more in our present,
who will try to disrupt our fluidity
to keep us from completing what our hearts have started. 
I won’t fight with them, but I’ll fight for you.

Let down your guard so that the plot strengthens instead of thickens. 
Allow me to water the soil that we stand on,
so that it becomes enriched with what we have to offer one another.
Let life take its course and don’t give fear the permission to stop it.
It would be a tragedy if you put an end to what we’re meant to be.

I want to be your reason, not a season.
I want to be your lifetime, not a loss.
Love me until your cup runneth over.
Love me until all you can do is love me some more.
Love me until it changes you for the better.
Love me until there’s no room for goodbye.

written August 7, 2016.

Relapse

What number am I on?
My face is starting to flush
and my hands are starting to wander.
I said that last time would be the last time,
but I don’t care to keep my word.

I see you looking at my thighs.
Would you like to cum in between them?
Won’t you tell me that you missed me
while you stroke my fears away?

You know that I want you,
but you don’t know that I crave you.
You don’t realize how I view you,
or that I want to make you mine. 

I wore the leggings you like – 
the ones that fit just right. 
I’m waiting for the moment when you start to take them off. 

I don’t want to say it.
I’m silently begging you not to make me. 
You’re serving me all this liquor,
but I’m just here for flesh. 

written July 25, 2016.

Sanctuaries

You allowed men to make homes out of a temple
they never appreciated beyond its walls.
They entered you so easily and left once they came.

You now mourn what was once an ethereal place of peace.
Countless spirits have resided within the confines of your soul,
and now you are stitching yourself back together.

You are weakened.
You are weary.
Everyone has a breaking point,
and yours is swiftly approaching.

You’ve loved men that had no clue how to love themselves,
and were treated like the very dirt you walk on.
You’ve held on to the hearts of past lovers for dear life,
while they took extreme measures to destroy yours.

It hasn’t been all bad, though.
There were a select few who would give you their all,
but you didn’t want to take it.
Sometimes you didn’t know how to.
The residue from the men before had already festered in your mind,
tarnished your heart, and toyed with your vision.

You are filthy inside.
Years of unresolved issues and suppressed emotions have piled up.
The pieces of people from your past have left their mark on you
without your consent.

You cannot scrub off your scars.
Repression does not erase what still lingers;
denial does not get rid of what devours.
I wonder,
if those that have harmed you so detrimentally, are hurting just the same.

written July 5, 2016.