The poems that I used to scribble
Were fickle, were fictional
I had no raw words to write
Until I fell in love with you
Until I fell in love with your dimples
Including the ones on your back
Until I fell in love with your heart
And how you fell in love with me
Your brown eyes
Your hands poking out
Of my oversized hoody
And your hand in my hand
Your small breasts
How they felt in my hands
And in my mouth
How I felt when your nipples went hard
The way you felt in my mouth
When we would kiss each other
And our lips would not fully meet
But our tongues would still play
I would bite your sensitive lip
And you'd give out to me
Until I would kiss it better again
And you would kiss my neck
And my chest
And my stomach
And all over my thighs
Oh, how we teased each other
We would share our mints
Through kisses
We'd sent dirty texts
Dirty pictures
We were only fifteen
We had a lot of sex
And now I'm seventeen
And you are my ex
And I don't miss you
But I wonder about you
I wonder about your dad
I wonder about your wrists
I wonder about your lungs
I wonder about your music
I wonder about whether
You wonder about me or not
I feel your stare burning me
More often than not
But my anxiety forbids me
From checking if it is true
Your laugh is fucking adorable
But your muttering makes me want to
Throw a table at your face
Leaving it as raw as this poem