almost everyone had left
by the time the clock
struck midnight.

you kissed me
at the top of the stairs,
then, after getting more wine,
announced to the room,
i’m staying here,
by the way.

my housemate
offered you blankets —
bless him,
so unaware.

you said
you’d take over my bed,
and i could sleep
wherever i wanted.

that was the night
i realised
i was madly in love.
i knew it may hurt,
but i couldn’t refuse
signing up.

I like when you say
you love me—
but tell me, too,
that you like being near me.

Say it clearly.

It seems to hit me harder
than a simple
“I love you.”

Last night, we made love.
I was wearing my baby-pink bra,
my white lace *******.

I was surprised you didn’t take it all off at once.
I think you liked how innocent I seemed to you
after so long.

You kissed me deeply,
touched my whole body.
I liked that.

You were concerned about my pleasure—
you wanted me to come.
I didn’t.

But the whole experience
was still worth it.

We’re good now,
like we used to be.

Sometimes I’m quick to say
I don’t want you—
and many other times I’m slow to say,
stay with me.

You know I’m a strong, powerful woman,
but you also know
I’m just a child.
I grew up without a father.
I don’t know how to love.
I only know how to give myself
and sink
into a vicious cycle of love
and dependency.

Save me now,
take me out of this sharp curve.
I need to breathe, my love.

Hold me in your arms—
I need the warmth,
the comfort,
a sweet kiss
with the taste of honey.
Amen.

You know I love
to wrap myself in your legs,
spread across the bed,
with the scent of our love.

Today was good,
tomorrow will be better.
Days of struggle are not
the end of the story.
With you…
I want bossa nova.

This was supposed to be my day—
a day to be happy.

I ended up alone.
Again.
Disgracefully.
Inevitably.

Every choice I’ve made
has brought me here.

I try to fool myself,
saying it’s not my fault—
blame my parents,
they raised me this way.

But I’m no longer a child.
Or at least,
I should have grown,
matured,
evolved.

At the end of my day,
the pleasure should have been mine.
But instead, I undressed,
put you in my mouth,
and gave you pleasure.

Happy birthday to me.

Your kisses
are dry across my body.
They don’t excite me anymore—
they’re like a lullaby.

I don’t feel desire,
I’m sorry.
I don’t know what happened to us—
if love cooled,
or froze completely.

I don’t want you to touch me.
My toes used to curl
every time
your hands
moved across my skin.

Now
there’s nothing.

How come
you want ***?
Where is your sensitivity?
Don’t you see the only thing I want to do
is **** myself?
I want to cut every part of me
and cease to exist.
But you don’t look at me
not the way I want.
You only look at that head
between your legs
and the fact that it’s been so long
since we last did it…

i notice
every little thing
he does.

his hand on my waist
as he slips past.
fingers grazing skin
when we both lean
against the pole.
our eyes meet,
as i hand him
the word
he was reaching for.

the other day
he gave me a side-hug.
stroked my back,
slid to my arm,
and i forgot
how to breathe.

then i missed my bus,
so we could talk,
just a bit longer.
longer
than we should have.

when i finally left,
i melted into him
without thinking.

i felt horrified,
almost betrayed.
because next time
i might kiss him
if my mind can’t
hold the reins.

every thought of him
is a slip toward the rim,
and i’m falling.
with hands tied.
i’m falling in love with him.