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meeting men
was always that easy.

it was evident
     in the way I
     plan to prepare myself

to venture out
     in the uncertainty of the open

trying to align
the inevitable disappointment
        on my self-predicament.

the way I trace
        the marks of ugly, visibly seen
onto my body

hoping that someone
               would like the art;
                the interpretation
of my
               flaws and sad beauty.

it was always easy
     to try calming the nerves
as I knock at his door, the pounding
of my heart
     from excitement, fear
     and self-loathing

as soon as the eyes
of the outside world cannot see
what lies
           behind these walls
that covers
            not only our fragile bodies,
            but also, our weakened souls
till everything is a blur.

meeting men was always
                 that easy.

it's the same thing
       as we put back our clothes
and maybe,
       kiss goodbye

then run away, with such bliss
          from the thrill of doing
what others can do freely

by the pulsing adrenaline
             panicked, weary
if anyone saw
             what we have done.


meeting him again?
                 that's the hard part.
Lot Jun 2019
I made a choice to let him near my private island by the pier
Before the water would shine so clear
But he let the currents swim with fear
The atmosphere turned dark and drear
With tides that move with painful blear
He stained my ocean and smeared my cheer
Left my beach polluted and my breeze veer
Where I'm left kneedeep by his rotten cohere
Now my choice remains very unclear
steph Apr 2019
in your dark room
on your fish pillow
i dwell on your touch
i feel it everywhere

being quiet so no one hears
we weren't supposed to be
doing what we were

you didn't leave any trace
but i wish you had

what was i to you?
you don't even realize
i never learn

and to make it worse
i’d do it again

you say you don’t remember
and it hurts
because i won’t ever forget
i guess that’s what i get

what made you choose me?
i wanna know but
i can't bring myself to ask

when i see you next
i don't know how i'll feel
would you do it again?
Malak S Jul 2018
As the world deafened around me, and the weight within my belly settled, I looked his way and noticed his eyes slowly ******* me.  
He laid his head gently on my thighs and my hands found their way to his hair.
A river; my fingers swam to the shore.
We moved to the couch and my body adjusted next to his, pressing into each other, somehow becoming one.
His arms enveloped me, his lips pressed onto my shoulders,
He took a bite.
In that moment, a flame ignited and I wanted nothing more than for him to fule the fire he now sparked.
His hand reached for me, and I asked for more
He whispered into my ears and I shook my head,
He pulled me closer saying he loved my body,
And I wondered if it was the high or if he meant it
Our lips found each other and we kissed like our life depended on it.
I could taste bitterness and loneliness,
Darkness that could possibly have me wondering how much of my heart is worth my keep and how much is worth drowning in drugs that seem a lot like love and lust, mixed into a ****** concoction of confusion.
The weight of his body moved on top of me, and I wanted the layers of clothes to evaporate like rain, but they were there suffocating the images I once had of a previous lover.
We set into a rhythm and the world seemed to dissipate,
To fade into nothing, but twilight.
As he reached his high, his body settled back between my arms and his lips graced my forehead.
I didn’t want him to love me.
I didn’t want him to offer me the world.
I didn’t want him to save me from the loneliness that, at times, eats me whole.
I wanted to know that at some point, I was cared for, even when I was used for an advantage.
Experiences and memories. This may not be what everyone’s used to, but I’m not used to this either.
It was something new and different and I discovered something about myself.
I love love.
Certain people get to have me. Certain people get to ACTUALLY have me.
It just depends on how much they care and what the aftermath is.
I don’t know how much sense this makes but im glad I’m not judging myself.
svdgrl May 2018
My immune system can't keep up with my emotions,
I've broke and shed tears, learning to be kosher.
I've been sick for a month but sick of you longer.
If my resilience is strong, my resolve can be stronger.
I won't talk to you, what's there to say anyway?
What's up? You hear Deafheaven's new album?
No? Yeah, it's not out yet.
I know you're not even giving this a second thought.
But when everyone's around- I still wonder why you're not.
Even though it's brief and in passing
and maybe I'm relieved; disenchanted.
I don't have to address the silence in a drunken stupor
amongst all of these new faces, I'm super.
I can talk to whoever and not feel like a loser
swiping on tinder, wearing away my finger
prints, a repetitive motion syndrome since
that night I decided to get to stepping for my dignity.
I refused to be an option that's just in your vicinity.
I've bought one too many beers that I didn't drink myself.
I've sat shiva one too many times on your bottom shelf.
So now I just wonder if we could ever be cordial,
I've been rubbing panacea on the sofa-bed sores,
I've acquired these last few months with you.
what're you up to?
Hope you're alright
I bid you good night.
svdgrl Feb 2018
i caught myself
before i caught a bad case of you
staining my sheets and making me believe
you meant when you said
i was your favorite person right now.
such a loud and pointless thought,
drenched in impermanence
lacking the resonance
that a favorite should hold
so i place you on mute,
to dull the sting of not being responded to.
i look towards the weekend,
where i'll probably miss the way you look at me,
but not the way my wallet drains a little
and the way we stumble drunkenly up my stairs
you- perfectly complacent,
i- nervous as hell that the nosy neighbors
might loosen lips to my crazy family.
i'll probably miss the way you feel within,
but not the way you're comatose in sin.
apathy is so last year,
but i won't expect you to remember
that i was your favorite right now.
but you were my favorite never.
stupid things boys say
svdgrl Sep 2017
I want to cry but to be perfectly honest,
I don’t feel like crying. I mean maybe,
I feel like I should be crying,
perhaps the girl, that wasn’t on anything
would probably be bawling her face out into her sheets,
or at least be asleep,
But here I am awake at 5 in the morning,
obviously tired.
Eyes dry and wide open,
Obviously spent
Numb-nosed and hell bent on writing something to read today
I’m typing away at this screen as if my conscience is the only thing
that could hear me if I scream out loud right now.
Enough of that,
filler angst.

I’ve been a juicy story for ya, huh?
Tellin your boys
I ended your dry spell, did I?
That’s quite lovely.
I suppose you ended mine, but I guess I find that hard to define
with a saying as simple as that, “She ended my dry spell”
In my heart, I know how to end you, but don’t be concerned.
I won’t try.
They say I’m too nice.
And when I hear that, I nod twice with my jaw tight
When I hear that, I don’t show them what I write.

I guess I don’t really feel much anger towards you anyway.
No matter what ill will I try to muster up, it’s lackluster and faded.
I mean, I guess it’s mostly me that’s jaded, so
It’s not your fault.
You’re the bystander.
And nothing is really telling you to save me.
Certainly, not I.
Hell, I’d be ****** if you tried.
I mean how much saving do I really need,
if the knots in my chest and around my ankles are this loose?
And I’m drinking this juice with free hands
it tastes sweet but not sticky

Honey, thanks for the truth,
you are a straight shooter-
and I might just be digging that part of you.
That and that we can go at it hard and forever.
That doesn’t hurt, I think.
For that, I can deal with listening to your jabber,
your kissing and telling, your “**** I couldn’t have her.”
Just pass the bourbon please, even though it's only scotch,
there’s still an urgency, to not be sober while you talk.

I don’t know.

This is what I wanted, right?
No strings attached too tight?

I like how you feel against my cheek.
Almost like you mean something.
You’re warm and I’m buzzed,
hanging off the edge of lust
It’s just oxytocin playing the cruel trick.
I remind myself you’re just that.
Oxytocin and some good ****.
But I like how you feel against my cheek.
Just ***** that you bore me when you speak.
BabeRuth Feb 2017
After all was said and done
He wrapped himself around me
In a tightly formed question mark
The answer to which I yet do not know

I spent the night tossing in confusion
His midnight kisses further puzzling my thoughts
A random hookup wasn't this to be?

No feelings
No attachments
No anything
Wasn't that the unsaid plan?

Then why did I feel this growing fondness
For a boy I barely knew
Whose one and only connection to me
Were the stupid investments our fathers had made

Why did I want to hold him back?
Kiss his cheeks with the same gentleness he showed me
When the plan was always a physical one?

This monthly ritual of his I succumbed to
My mind overthrown by multiple questions
While my body gave to him every part of me I could

Until on a lonely Friday my eyes opened
The metaphors I had discovered
Now lay dead around me
The reality lying startlingly naked ahead of me

It was not care that brought him close
It was not any symbol of love he saw

A woman's body is all he acknowledged
My soul never receiving the gratification it dreamed for
There were no metaphors to this story
No hidden secrets waiting to be discovered

Just a girl who hoped for more
Settling for a boy couldn't ever see more
Than her naked waist
The tickle of of moving hair
The flutter of her lips in ecstasy
The sigh in her heart as he moved away
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