The topic of relationships makes my blood boil lava hot.
Cause I’m stuck between a hard place and a rock.
And I can’t get out.
I started doing with my hair what I was told by my ex who I didn’t love.
And I must say I look a way I never thought I could - fan me off hot.
It’s just a matter of time before they realize my blood-drenched love affair.
He knows.
It’s going nowhere.
And he knows about that too.
But I’m digging and digging till there’s blood but I’m at it still.
And I ask myself why is it.

I’m rock hard, I don’t bounce back.
I can give up for myself.
Cause this is not serving me well.
It rocks me by my made hair, head against the mirror and it breaks.
It’s against me in so many ways.
I catch you staring at me.
But won’t acknowledge me.
It’s the gay reality.

My feelings exist and I think he feels the same way about me.
And it seems too good to squander after a dozen failed romances.
I say those *******’ names as a mantra.
But it’d be harder to stay and I’m hard and don’t bounce back.
I said I was done with him but won’t delete his pictures, wonder why.
Those bravery outbursts, I treat as tantrums.
I can’t sleep without pretending your arms are shielding me.
I can say I deserve better but it’s your name I repeat when alcohol hammers me.
The diminutive form of it.
I’d like to see a smile form on your gorgeous face when I tell you it.
I need liberating.
It’s exhausting me.
But it’s so sweet I’ll miss it when you’re gone.

I’m rock hard, but I’m also soft.
I don’t wanna give him up.
Even though this is destroying me.
Incapacitates me mentally.
It drives me crazy, crazy, crazy.
But what’s crazy is that I still don’t have enough.
It rocks me like Courtney Love and I love this headbanger.
Fender ******.
Atomic bomb.
The little things, they tend to grow.
I left my heart unattended and his vines grew over it.
It’s oddly comforting to me.
When I catch him staring.
But he won’t admit it for some reason.
**** this gay reality.

Use me.
This bussy’s for sale.
Ghost in the sheets?
I’m a guy but I’m that girl.
I’m ******* gay as ****:
I need **** right now.
I shaved my body for who?
Not my stupid crush?

The realization that I’m single?
No ***** can break my heart.
I’m a pathological liar.
I never had a boyfriend.
My life from in my poems is a lie.
If that’s what you wanna call it.
Call it, but I prefer the word fantasy.
I’ll continue to soar right above it.
Or fall head first into the sad gayality.