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i would have stood on rooftops
and bell towers
and light houses
singing your praises;
i believed in us.
i believed i could mend your brokenness;
And with the gift of my
pure
body,
you would be healed.
you disgusted me
you disguised yourself in sheep's wool and made yourself look lovable and malleable and open
but i am allergic to wool and your façade
left me
cold and
violated
and alone.
i believed i loved you
and you loved me
but we see so clearly now,
a wolf in sheep's clothing cannot find love
with a swan.
in films
love seems inevitable
intimacy seems comfortable
*** seems sensual.
somehow, the writer of my play has changed the rules
love seems impossible
intimacy seems uncomfortable and
*** seems like a mans one and only goal.
my body has been tainted by a boy
with scruffy sideburns
bleached hair and toffee eyes.
i found his brokenness
intriguing
flattering
mysterious.
his skin was like a newport on a nipped february morning
his hair like a wool knitted sweater
he tasted like apricots drenched in wine.
he kissed me like he loved me
he licked me like he missed me
he held me like he'd never let me go.
he rode his bike everywhere,
his heart was cold as snow.

— The End —