your breath tastes like freshly poured beer off the tap
Boston lager—bitter and woody
as hard as your hand pressing against my thighs
then you go in and I pretend to enjoy it

I do but you do it too hard.
I liked it better when we both had ***** stinging breaths
you stare at my body—and suddenly I don’t feel **** anymore

I have a small pouch at my navel
purplish stretch marks near the bottom
that I awkwardly tried to cover with drugstore foundation
I'm wearing my sexiest red thong *******…
in hopes that you don’t stare at those small 8 lines

I’m not that boss ***** of last week…
I’m a scared little girl, infatuated with the fact that you like me
as you play with me I try to enjoy it
but the fluorescent lights are on—burning shame into my brain
I feel your penetrating stares through my body
so I start praying for the lights to be off

when you turn the lights off I try to be **** but I can’t
you pull me to the edge and **** me…
you don’t touch and rub my body like last time.
am I that unappealing unless your drunk?

then you *** and snuggle next to me.
we talk about ambiguous things and I’m just wishing you liked that.
I call you ‘baby’
and you immediately shut me down.
what am I doing wrong—am I just the girl for right now?
i want to be the girl for later but how do you do that?

maybe if I stayed in your bed till 4 am I would have more hope I guess ill just deal with whatever happens I just don’t give a **** anymore.