the last time we
fucked was pumped
with passion and
there was an extra
flavor there that I
am now proud to
admit was
awkward.
You pulled your laptop
into the bathroom
and the picture was
so blurry that
I couldn't really
tell if you were
biting your lip
or grinning
insanely.
I was twisting
uncomfortably
in my bed,
trying to pose in a
way that didn't
feel as though
my legs would go numb
and drop off my
hips in bloody apendages
but that also
didn't cause my stomach
rolls to emerge
in a way that
suggested I could
be popped into
an oven and devoured.
The time before that,
We were fucking each other
goodbye. There were
black make- up stains
on your dorm room
pillow and some mixed
smells of regret and
my cunt juice. You tried
to reassure me that
we'd stay in touch-
that you would fucking
call. I promised I
would try to feel better
about the situation
but promises are
meant to be broken,
especially if they're made
by 2 ex-lovers at
four in the morning.
The time before that
was make-up sex.
I never told you this,
but I wasn't really
sorry. I
think I needed to
get fucked by that
other guy
to prove to myself
that I was worth
fighting for.
(Besides, it's
not like you and I
were still together.)
The time before
that was on a Tuesday
before we had to
go to class.
(I always sat in front
of you, and we
would pretend that
the other didn't exist-
but your deep voice
sweeping the floor behind me
made it very difficult)
I remember
smelling your armpit
on my hand, and
wondering why that smell
got me so excited.
The time before that,
we both begged the
other to make love
to our sweet aching
lonely bodies while,
outside, the kids were
smoking pot and laughing.
My hands burned like
hellfire against the
back of your neck
and that sweet
melancholy sensation
and questions formed
inbetween our teeth
*Do you still love me
what will this
look like, come tomorrow?*
Then, the time
before that, I
was fucking you
while alone in the
privacy of my room
(you were asleep in your bed, I'm sure)
I sobbed,
tugging at my nipples
in a frenzy,
plunging into myself
so hard that the
next morning, I was
sore when I sat
down. The way
I imagined you inside
of me, back home
again which I guess,
at that point, is
where I thought
you belonged.
*But now, I guess
I'm not so
sure*
The time before
that, we
were falling apart
and we both
knew it. I
think I lay numb,
underneath you,
going through the motions
thinking Thank God for
muscle memory. Without
it, I would be as
much of a robot on the
outside as I
felt on the inside.
And that would be
a shitty way for you
to find out that
I didn't love you
anymore.
The time before that,
we were drunk
you asked me
a thousand times if
I was sure I wanted
to. You even made me
promise I wouldn't regret
it in the morning.
*But promises are made
to be broken, especially
if they are made by
two drunk lovers at
four in the
morning.*
The time before that,
we were in your
back yard.
The moon shone down
on us through the
willow branches.
I heard crickets.
Just the right
amount of tipsy
both of us pulled
our pants down
past our hips,
you placed your
hoodie under my
ass. I breathed in
the smell of your neck
I pulled you so close
I could swear our bodies
were going to melt
into each other
and the time
before that
was in the morning on
a saturday
I kissed you
softly awake, pressed up
against your hot
skin under the covers
I swore I loved you
and the thing
I have so far failed to mention
is that I
still do