I know a man who you can learn a thing or two from.
A master of the art of ******* and manipulation.
Someone who can make me lose complete control,
stomp on self-respect and smother all dignity.
A man who makes me want to offer him ***, along
with the rest of me and the best of me, on a platter.
One who makes me shudder with frenzy, by
merely existing. By texting. By a text. Once a fortnight.
Whilst you're the lead in a best selling fiction,
he is the only player in my fantasy. Coincidence?

*"Christian, meet Samuel."

If I were white, blond and blue eyed, with
long legs, ample ******* and sharp cheekbones...
Or
If I were icy cold, with hardly any soul, and
simply on a mission to use and discard all men...
Or
If I were a lot less chatty and far more witty, said
all the right things and didn't laugh so loudly...
Or
If I were really good at water-polo, swimming, sailing or
some sport, had mastered an art or multiple languages...
Or
If I were the kind to have casual *** and just move on
like nothing ever happened other than casual ***...
Or
If I were more of a chase, played hard to get, and wasn't
automatically responsive to all and any whimsical...
Or
If I were not Me...

                                                          ­                                                              Wou­ld you feel anything for me?
                                                             ­                                                                 ­                      Would you care?
                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                Would you?

When those two words popped up on my phone screen,
I thought of a million come backs from, "Honey,
I didn't know there was anything to replace!",
to a simple, "**** right off!"
But of course instead I replied,
"Some things in life are irreplaceable :P",
right after deleting my dignity!

I am so sick of love.
Loyalty, honesty, dedication, compassion, compromise, for better or for worse (when it's always worse)!
I am so sick of love, and all the drama that accompanies it.
Most of all what makes me absolutely ill, in a brain and heart exploding in anger and disappointment respectively, kind of way,
are the Lies!
"You're all I want", "I need you", "I need a friend", "I still love you", "I will always love you", "Is there any chance?", "Can we get back together?",
all the attention seeking, melodramatic, time-consuming crap!
Followed by guilt. That nauseous feeling of, what if? What If? WHAT IF?
Was it the right thing? Will I find another? What about the broken heart?
The sleepless nights of pondering how to end things, the poems written and unpublished, the practising in front of the mirror, cigarettes to channel the guilt elsewhere...
For crying out loud!
After years of guiding me, I should have given way more credit to my instincts.

And now for the new chapter. Embracing an old art, new to me. Currently so underrated and misjudged by priests, mothers and newly-weds.  
The philosophy of zero expectations to infinite pleasure and everything in between.
No regrets, no time wasted (and hell was my time wasted on you!#$#$#$).
Time to give up my soul to the darkness, (God, I hope you'll understand I still love and believe you, but I prayed and prayed. I can't wait any more!) and my body to the sailor boy!
Absolutely No Strings Attached.
No *******, no promises, just *** (and cuddles), a lot of *** (and waking up next to him?)
Anyway, NO STRINGS ATTACHED! [Except for the invisible, really strong one. He is irresistible after all and I'm a dreamer who never, ever learns, and follows her instincts way too much!]

One thing's for sure.
I am so profoundly sick of love!

S** un light gushing through the window on that summer afternoon, left me
A westruck as they bounced off your golden locks. You continued to create
M usic so surreal, I felt still asleep lost within a sweet dream.
U nleashing the darkest desires within my soul, you continued to
E ntrap me a little bit more every time we came into contact. Emotions,
L ost during my last battle with Cupid, were revived one by one.

R eality losing yet another battle with the phantom of the summer,
O ver-dozed on your boyish charms whilst suffering from an impatient heart.
W ild look in your eyes burns into mine, and as you speak I
L ong to kiss your lips with raving passion, hoping it would last an
E ternity and a little bit more. Maybe you will, maybe you won't, but just
S mile for now and play your music, 'cause it makes me "feel" again.

F* ickle summer [and general] pass-time. Though you hardly
A cknowledge me, I meditate on the virtual probability of our
N on-existent romance, incessantly. Just as I make an effort to
A ttempt to bury you in a dark corner of my subconciousness, *you
T ext me! Once again giving me just enough attention so that I'm
I ndifferent to your self-centred, egoistic, promiscuous nature and
C ompletely falling for you instead, as I've done, since the day we first met.

Is how I want to love you!

Ever since you kidnapped my heart and held my mind a hostage,
haunting my dreams, dominating my thoughts, driving me
insane, I've stopped caring about the future, about consequences,
about heartbreaks and breaking hearts, all I just want is you!

To hold you, to feel you, to touch you, to be touched,
frankly I'll settle for what ever you want to do with me,
or to me, as long as I can just reach out and feel your
skin, against my body I'll be happy, I'll be content.

Each time my phone beeps it feels like Christmas, and
I'm opening a pile of gifts hoping they are all for me, your
texts with a simple 'x' at the end of every message, just
lightens up my day like a child seeing snow for the first time.

So maybe there will be a next time, hopefully soon, when
I'll be a little more sober and you a little less, and we could try
again to kiss and this time make it last long enough, so I can
remember and cherish every moment of your reckless caress.