She let my hand lay in hers
as she tapped it firm and rhythmal.
I knew I needed this moment with her,
but could not look her in the eyes.

She started.
You think you don't deserve true love.
I smiled. I'm such a walk-around cliché.
You put on this act of *** godess
because you feel that's the only way to get male attention.
Now I just sound like a *****. I'm not that weak.
You think every man will leave.
Boo-hoo, ******* bridget jones's diary
Because he left you.

That hit me.
Suddenly I was crying.
Not just tears, it was crying at its fiercest form.
I was howling,
every gram of pain dripped out of me.

She held me.
I felt clean.
I repeated after her.
Even though I'm afraid of being left alone again
She kept tapping.
I accept myself
I looked at her
*and I love myself

I am a hurricane.
My world is this ***** of emotions
on a saturdaynight with the vague taste of ***** and caramel.
All of my relationships smell like bodyfluids
latex with the fake taste of strawberries or chocolate.
My last wednesday consisted of two jobs, two bottles and no sleep.
It's how I like my days.
The people who were supposed to raise me snorted more than I ever will.

I am a hurricane.
In my eye, you stand.

Your poems. your words.
They shiver me, my spine weakens.
Your details, your roughness.
My mouth waters. My hands contract.
Your sentences content no fuss.
You're writing truth. You're killing me.
My eyes conclude. My lips unlock.

How I'd love us to use eachother,
feed our ego's with the taste of skin
take advantage of these stirless bodies,
but your words are all I know.

Why don't you ride him?
Because you're no ****?
You spread those legs and moan, but your pants stay on.

Why don't you let him?
Because you're not in love?
His teeth on your hard *******, your hands dig in his lap.

Why are you holding back?
Because he won't respect you?
In your mind he's thrusting inside you, you scream and turn and gasp.
But you tame yourself and walk away.


*I'm not letting society tell me who I can or can not ****.
Call me a *****, but I came ten times last night. And you wish you did too.

I used to believe in love the way I believed in a ******* rabbit,
hiding eggs all over grandma's garden because jesus died.
Now I know, my grandmother hid them, rabbits taste delicious and jesus wasn't even born.*

Love is selfishness.
It is impossible to love one, without wanting them to love you back.
To give time and attention to you and you alone.

There's no such thing as unconditional love.
We fall in love with one's attention in stead of one's personality.
We don't feel attracted to one's body, but to the feeling that body gives ours.
We do not love people. We love security, affection.
We want to feel wanted and loved.
And when we don't, we blame the one we never even cared about in the first place.

We walked past the girls in the red lights
Looked at their bodies and judged their ****, hand in hand
I wondered if they would take women, or couples
You got mad
"Do you want a ***** to go down on you?"
Apparently, you did.

I planned a holiday with my friends.
I would be living on the edge of coma for ten straight days.
Excited I told you the news.
You cried in my arms.
"What if they touch you, and you can't say no?"
Apparently, you couldn't.

I went to see a pro for the first time.
It scared the **** out of me.
Finally admitting my problem.
You laughed.
"Babe, are you a little coocoo for cocopuffs?"
Apparently, babe, you are.

My first poem was about you.
I bet you can't remember. You promised me you'd come visit me that summer.
Because you missed me.
I was about about five years old. At that age I still believed in promises.
You never came.
In fact, I never saw you after that.

I saw fathers around me.
Carrying their children on their shoulders.
Mom couldn't, she's not that strong.
I saw them, kissing mothers, with their children in the middle.
I kiss my mother. She needs it.

Once, in class, I wrote your name in my notebook.
With the words 'I miss my dad'
Got detention for messing up my homework.

I think about you dying. And I wonder what I'd feel.
I hope your ghost will also never keep his promises.