i’m so ******* sad because a boy kissed me in his bed in a london hotel room, late last sunday morning, and i couldn’t say no because there was something delicious in the way he’d bite my lips and filled my mouth with the taste of toothpaste - i walked in on him while he was still in the bathroom. there’s no embarrassment in the way i banged my head against the wall in an effort to madly kiss him, it’s been a while since i had a boy’s tongue playing with my own and he undressed me even though i told him not to, because it’s so easy for a seventeen year old to work his way around my clothes, touching me in places i don’t normally let see the glaring light of day. ‘kiss me more’ he said, every time i stopped to think about my boyfriend patiently waiting for me back home.

my best friend is ******* boys she’s never met before because i abandoned her to find myself in a country where i know nothing about anything

your mother hates me because i am the reason you fall asleep whispering ‘i love you’ into the dark at 2am when you have school in a few hours, all because i bought a plane ticket for milan but didn’t tell you until a week before lift-off. ‘i need to see you one last time,’ you said and what were we thinking sharing our first kiss when we knew we didn’t want it to be our last, it can’t be our last. you could fly to me instead of buying a car, but they were always your first love, so which would you rather ride? me or your baby?

a week before my birthday i told you i was turning sixteen and i invited you to my party that saturday night but here we are a month later and i asked you 'why didn't you say happy birthday to me' and you were distraught and genuine when you asked 'what when was it?', the answer you should have known, you used to know because we found out this fact about each other at 5am last october, the answer 'the 14th of june' and your lame 'i didn't know!' and the coincidence is the clock just ticked 12am and now it's the 14th of july and you're apologising over and over for not making the worst birthday ever any better.

your collar bones make me want to shove you onto a bed and sit on top of you and lay kisses on every inch of your body, and your skin, pale and glowing and unlike every other italian boy i've ever seen, you're different to them
and it's not because you think i am deserving of love and not just ***, and you think i'm beautiful and not just ****
it's the way you look into my eyes and wait for my smile because you think it's the most perfect thing in the world, and how you can't help but touch me every time i bite my lip because i'm so '****** ****' and you want my body but before that you made sure you wanted my heart

when he speaks to me all i wish is that the words were coming from your mouth.

i hate that we've been together so long without being able to call you my boyfriend
i hate how you never smile in photos, and the way you wear blue shirts that bring out the colour of your eyes
i hate the fact you think i'm beautiful when you've never really seen me
i hate how you call me at 3am and insist you're not drunk, and pretend it was an accident when you call me sober
i hate that you don't ask how my day was or what my favourite season is or if i like your hair like that
i hate when we don't talk for weeks and suddenly you miss me
i hate how you forget the name of my favourite song but remember the day we met
i hate that you promised your grandma you wouldn't smoke anymore but brag about your drugs to me
i hate how much i hate you, but that i have to, because the dumb truth is i love you, and
i hate how after all this time you still don't love me