Nov 2021
I am exhausted of merely being put up with.
Of men saying that I am “worth the wait” and leaving when they have to wait for me.
It will always come to a point where suddenly my company does not outweigh the desire for more of what other girls can offer. Always.
I have vowed to myself that I will wait for one with which I will wait.
Who doesn’t look at me and imagine what he’d do if I weren’t so complicated and adamant about depriving him of something that “everyone’s doing”.
I am enough when I laugh at their jokes and sing them songs and hold their hand and take off the mask I hide behind.
But I only have to wait
And eventually they will want more from my mouth than laughter and song.
They want to hold more. They want me to take off more.
They usually mean no harm, they’re human after all. The desires of the mind are dangerously powerful.
I don’t blame them for not understanding, it isn’t something they’re accustomed to. The good ones tell me no means no and I know they would never push.
But I see it in their eyes when their pupils dilate and it is not because I am beautiful.
I hear it in their breath when they kiss me once and then kiss me twice and kiss me again and again and again and press further and deeper and I yearn to give them what I know they wish they were building towards.
I cherish my innocence but I fear what happens when they are told to stop.
The exasperated sigh of frustration, the collapse beside me in disappointment.
After all these years I still don’t know how to say it.
I’ve mastered the art of holding my breath while their hands wander and telling myself as long as I take nothing off it never happened.
I got a good one once.
He made me laugh and sang me songs and held me close.
But even still I know I let him down.
His racing heart and curious lips never asked for more, but I knew they would take it if only I allowed.
They all would take it.
If only I were fun.
If only I were easy.
If only they didn’t have to take matters into their own hands when I went home.
I hate having to find out how long they can last before I am no longer endearingly but enragingly pure.
It is always shorter than I wish.
I know there are many who want my heart.
But there are so few that want nothing more.
Nothing more than what I have to offer.
Nothing more than to wait.
- p. winter
Of men saying that I am “worth the wait” and leaving when they have to wait for me.
It will always come to a point where suddenly my company does not outweigh the desire for more of what other girls can offer. Always.
I have vowed to myself that I will wait for one with which I will wait.
Who doesn’t look at me and imagine what he’d do if I weren’t so complicated and adamant about depriving him of something that “everyone’s doing”.
I am enough when I laugh at their jokes and sing them songs and hold their hand and take off the mask I hide behind.
But I only have to wait
And eventually they will want more from my mouth than laughter and song.
They want to hold more. They want me to take off more.
They usually mean no harm, they’re human after all. The desires of the mind are dangerously powerful.
I don’t blame them for not understanding, it isn’t something they’re accustomed to. The good ones tell me no means no and I know they would never push.
But I see it in their eyes when their pupils dilate and it is not because I am beautiful.
I hear it in their breath when they kiss me once and then kiss me twice and kiss me again and again and again and press further and deeper and I yearn to give them what I know they wish they were building towards.
I cherish my innocence but I fear what happens when they are told to stop.
The exasperated sigh of frustration, the collapse beside me in disappointment.
After all these years I still don’t know how to say it.
I’ve mastered the art of holding my breath while their hands wander and telling myself as long as I take nothing off it never happened.
I got a good one once.
He made me laugh and sang me songs and held me close.
But even still I know I let him down.
His racing heart and curious lips never asked for more, but I knew they would take it if only I allowed.
They all would take it.
If only I were fun.
If only I were easy.
If only they didn’t have to take matters into their own hands when I went home.
I hate having to find out how long they can last before I am no longer endearingly but enragingly pure.
It is always shorter than I wish.
I know there are many who want my heart.
But there are so few that want nothing more.
Nothing more than what I have to offer.
Nothing more than to wait.
- p. winter
