"hookups" poems
Pimple popping
Lathered deodorant
Awkward tampons
Hair in unwanted places
Drunken nights
Failed hangover cures
Flunked classes
Broken hearts
First kisses and first times
Rebounds
Hookups
Hickeys
Rushes of frustration
These are all
unglamorous occasions
Of a not so florescent
Adolescence
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
The internet and the
electronic gadgets are
now creating the new wave
of infidelity,
did you notice the anomalies in
the way things are turning out.
Hookups made easy,
knowing me knowing
you friendships,
easy dating and cheating.com,
wives and husband cheating on themselves,
Social media is the only
best place to live your
fake dream full of lies like the
deepfakes movies.
No more true friendship,
nothing real but a pretense
paradise.
Always uncomfortable but rather
deal with another from a distance.
You don't exist even when together
in same room.
Always closer to the stars
than to you.
You are ignored but chat with
someone so far away.
You seem to be happier
talking to someone you
never met and hardly know,
telling all your private secrets
to an unknown person claiming
to be a true close friend while
the one you grew up with now
becomes a friendenemy,
never to be trusted.
Electronic friendship
has killed our generation,
destroyed the foundation
of true relationship.
Fake lifestyle,
flaunting fake wealth,
gossiping about fake
not-so-sure news.
Infidelity has become
the new social norm
accessible and accepted
around the world.
No true commitment,
so much fraud and
drama displayed.
The young men and
women are going berserk,
their uncontrollable pesky ways
leading them in all manner of immorality and all kinds of trouble.
But there's still some sort of
good in it.
Is this a part of a new world order?
Maybe, I don't know.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 2:31 PM UTC
An airplane crashes into an uncharted island and hundreds of people die in the burning debris, and somewhere a group of boys and girls are taking selfies as they stand next to a burning office building.
Thousands of teenagers sit on the couch and eat ice cream until the buttons on their pants explode off.
Kids light themselves on fires as if they were monks from the Tiananmen Square, trying to gain acceptance, their dreams of stardom translated through a series of YouTube comments.
We can't afford books for college because the tuition is ridiculous, but these glossy tabloid magazines are only a few bucks; pick one to set the course of your life.
Middle-aged people spend their lives indoors, away from the thirsty, hungry, withering children, and check how many likes did their photos receive on their smartphones.
Pornographic images in front of our tired faces, our eyes locked to the screen and we do not blink as our memories become embedded with objectification.
So we don't look up and see the chaos transpiring.
Cat memes and colorful gifs hold our attention while our parents slave away at their boomerang-shaped desks, trapped in clustered cubicles.
I saw a post on Facebook of a girl who was sexually assaulted at a house party and now her name was being hashtagged and kids were posing in photographs, laying on the floor, legs and arms sprawled out, left and right, trying to mimic the injustice.
We swipe right to find our future hookups, but what if our future husbands and wives were on the left?
Society spends millions of dollars on drinks to numb our conscience, until our brain cells are wretched like the homeless guy on the street corner drinking liquor from a coffee mug.
Israel and Palestine battle each other day after day while our generation gossips about Solange Knowles beating up Jay-Z with her patent leather purse as if that news conquers every other bit of information out there.
The world will always be corrupt, but it suffers more from the apathy that belongs to us.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 7:56 PM UTC
I think I understand hookups and one-night stands now.
The key to moving on is to replace all that stood before
until there stands nothing that may cause you to unravel.
Moment by moment,
conversation by conversation,
I replace the replays,
I can't bear the thought
of another touching me, like I'm not yours.
I got another ring today, all big and loose.
It's funny how I picked this one,
it keeps slipping off my fingers like you did.
It's been two months since I last wore your ring.
I don't see a difference between them,
it feels the same on my thumb.
and that should be the end of it,
but oh well, I guess it isn't.
I walked to the grocery store, paused at an aisle,
took my time frowning over chocolate bars.
You used to get me Munch, and so I picked the Mars bar.
I don't skip meals now, (well, most days I don't)
and in place of our routine conversations,
I play a random show.
I drown noise with noise.
My days are decent.
I'm surrounded by mindless jibber jabber.
I participate.
I paste a bright smile.
“You look well now,” they say,
“Well, I am” I reply.
And I am fine. (I think I am?)
9/10 times I am.
Then in a random mundane moment,
memories of you resurface like a ring light and
in that single moment,
I let myself crumble.
“I don't want him back.
He's changed now.
So have you and so what?
If it's meant to be, it'll be.
He's the love of my life.
Well don't let him in,
when (not if) he comes back.
Do it from love, not for it.
You deserve happiness.
Both of you do.
You want love.
You are love.
The ocean doesn't look for its water,
Why will you look for what you have?
It is what it is.
and this too shall pass.”
So on and so forth my inner monologue goes on,
and I stare at my phone wondering if I can conjure you from my thoughts.
I am kinder now.
With myself, and everyone around.
I wish I were kinder to you, but I was just a child.
I know you're proud,
and I am of you too.
Do you think I can sculpt my favourite version of you?
Wait, no.
I already did that,
I loved all of you
and then everything fell apart.
My thoughts swirl and I let them play.
Incantations in my head
Obligatory 3 am, weary sighs, contempt and rage.
Oh, so much rage.
Where is the calming lull of sleep, when you need it to sedate your despair?
Resignation sets in, I play a familiar game.
I ask the universe and unbiasedly it delivers the same day.
"Universe, give me a sign, I'm really done this time.
Yellow flowers if he's coming back,
Dandelions if he's not.
Universe let me move on. This is the last time, "
In my version of He loves me, he loves me not
I break flowers, not petals.
I look for answers in colours and not action,
And then I saw a dozen Dandelions.
Jan 17, 2024
Jan 17, 2024 at 4:40 PM UTC
I don't want a relationship
been hurt one too many times
so if I just want hookups and ***
why am I called a ****
because in reality
I am just vulnerable
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
To 2016:
I'd love to say that I hated you, but to be honest, you made me grow.
You gave me direction. You pulled me out of a 4 month long rock bottom depression, showed me what I wanted to do in my life and sent me on my way.
You gave me two semesters of college, and a decision.
You gave me my first teaching experience, and you taught me the true value of patience.
You brought some new friends into my life and reunited me with old ones. You also got rid of a few, but I trust that's for the best.
You explained to me how easily I can be used.
You showed me that relationships don't define me, and that even if I think I am in love, life goes on and that I am an independent woman.
You blessed me with a baby, and then you took it away. But within that you gave me hope.
You sent me through hookups, drunken texts, hospital trips, gallons of tears and two D&Cs.;
You helped me on my wavering journey in my walk with God. You led me to being Baptized and you gave me the one chance in my life to feel that I was my family's priority.
You taught me that it's okay to not always have the answer to everything, including the question of "who are you?".
You taught me to accept the word queer and make it my own. Like a beautiful pair of glasses, this is how I see the world.
You taught me the value of family after my dads accident, and then again after the baby.
And even after all the drama, fights, murders, and injustices, 2016, you taught me that a bad year isn't always a bad as we make it seem, and that even on our darkest days, there is a lesson to be learned.
And to 2016: Thank you.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC
I'm sick
I'm sick of every filter
I'm sick of fake photographers
I'm sick of fake philosophers
and Instagram pornographers
I'm sick of the fake feminists
who don't understand the movement
I'm sick of fake politicians
who make no ******* improvements
I'm sick of all the favorites
I'm sick of all the likes
I'm sick of ******* tinder
causing cheating every night
I'm sick of ******* eyebrows
like who ******* cares
when did we become so obsessed
with ******* forehead hair
I'm sick of religion
I'm sorry but it's true
it's caused so much division
in our red white and blue
I'm sick of trump supporters
who never read the news
they want to close our borders
but don't understand the ruse
I'm sick of fake people
who pretend for us all
cover their old selves in diesel
didn't hesitate or stall
I'm sick of Caitlin Jenner
she/he whatever isn't noble
committed ******* manslaughter
yet still remains boastful
I'm sick of post it note relationships
that last for three weeks
it's not a ******* battleship
just make the proper tweaks
I'm sick of all these hookups
it's become a culture
all of these pickups
initiated by the vultures
I'm sick of everyone caring
about what celebrities wear
I'm sick of overbearing hate
that never ever spares
I'm sick of all the judgment
of how a person looks
I'm sick of everyone watching YouTube
trading it for books
I'm sick of all this money
that we will never see
I'm sick of never knowing
what I'm supposed to do
I'm sick of schooling never showing
how to live our lives through
I'm sick of all this debt
that I'll be paying until my death
Im sick of feeling like our society is *******
but most of all I'm really sick
that this list has applied to me too.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 11:11 AM UTC
I wrote this after reading a poem about fake people off Facebook.
All is not fair in love when you got to research dudes secret desires and **** like that.
The real dudes want you to be real and not be head game queen to get him.
I'm a real man who spent time seeking women in all the wrong places.
Tried real life met my share of God faring GCB ****** droppers giving it up.
Met ones at bars who drink to much, will do you but blame it all on *****
I've met plenty of fake women seeking to get at what I have using *** methods.
Met many raised thinking marrying a rich man is better than a poor one.
If all the women claiming they want a decent guy were real they would find one.
Met some at malls wearing rings but bored with husbands and Facebook is a hunting
ground for lonely women and housewives like the ones off Craigslist placing ads.
Did some knowing they married ones weren't keepers they forgot they were married
not me. Who thinks about a wedding ring when married women come on to you and
you find **** what you see in profile pics and think you can't have it then BAM.
Husbands aren't the only ones placing ads and setting up hookups off net.
If you think I'm a scumbag what about the lonely married women who flirt, tease and
****** in chat and phone tempting you until you feel you gotta take it to real.
What about the young ones using bodies and *** to get a nice life and a ring on it.
Most of the young ones don't look at the man as desirable but are good at fake ***
Met a woman who got dumped by plenty of men and faked a pregnancy to get a
married man. After she got him to leave his wife, kids and home she had to fake
a miscarriage to keep from being dumped by the millionth man.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 4:30 AM UTC
Craving affection never got me to far.
A tongue down your throat isn't a hand on your heart.
Pushing out your ***** won't make them see the real you.
They don't get to see, and feel, and love what you do.
To the hookups we'll never see again,
It's only a matter of time that I break what you continue to bend.
I don't want to wake up,
To regrets and judgment,
Shut up!
Will I ever find some one who wants me for real?
I won't find out because I don't even want to feel.
When will I learn?
I don't need to break and burn.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 12:18 AM UTC
Kinesiology is the new brain surgery
Preferential treatment
A Martyr for your sugar gene
Cat fights
Bud lights
Hookups and straightened hair
This is the new Jesus
Wouldn't you know
It's the jocks and the nerds again
Over and over until
you've lost all your friends
To a horrible incident
where you decided to be free
This is why you will always
Be better than me
Projectile *****
Thesis on emesis
I am so green
I am peridot and coriander
Caring about what they think
Watching all the popular shows
Does and stags
Waving flags
Pre-packaged beliefs
Artificial older sister
Looking down your nose
You are so humble
You are so polite
It's the other person's fault
When you get in a fight
But most of all
You aren't racist
You aren't racist
There's no way you're a racist
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 4:34 PM UTC
1.) Waking up alone Saturday morning means not having to get breakfast hung-over for anyone but yourself.
2.) Cleaning your room is optional.
3.) Books are so much better at pillow talk.
4.) Taking the stairs will do more wonders for your body than elevator hookups ever will.
5.) It is a blessing to have no one but yourself to debate with over Netflix selections on a Sunday afternoon.
6.) Choosing true friendship over a hasty ****** will always be the best decision.
7.) Music provokes the heart when you’re with someone, but provokes the soul when you’re not.
8.) Crying over things other than men gives you a better understanding of life’s meaning.
9.) Sometimes you discover things you thought were lost forever when searching long and hard for your key, because without it you have no where else to sleep.
10.) Contrary to the hand of another, a pen will not let go.
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
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 moving hair
The flutter of her lips in ecstasy
The sigh in her heart as he moved away
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 10:42 AM UTC
It's been a while since we last spoke,
3 years to be precise, but who's counting anyway, not me.
Definitely not me.
By the way I unfriended you on facebook,
I figured it's about time, I mean after 3 years of radio silence,
a long term girlfriend for you,
and a series of unsuccessful hookups for me,
I figured it's about time I gave up the illusion of being friends with you.
Every now and then I look you up,
and thanks to your disregard for security and privacy settings,
I stalk you, and her.
She seems nice, positive, bubbly,
committed to all the right causes,
I cannot really find any reason to dislike her. Shame.
Perhaps if I said yes the second time round, or the third,
perhaps if we hadn't been so young and had another go,
perhaps if you said yes, when I eventually felt so,
we'll never know.
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
Speedy data transfer vine
indexed in junk DNA
Instantanious communication
no possibility of delay?
Holo-fractal hookups.
Is everyone on the line?
or
are we listen--ing too slow
are our ears to big to tell
ack from nak, yes from no
The solution? maybe
Quantum time!
Just one eternal grandfather clock
with only a TIC,
never a TOC
delays maybe caused by reneade gyres
like intestellar,
"slowdown feller"
invisible, swirls, with gushing spires.
E-fracting for minutes, hours, years
decades, eons, epics and more.
As pools of whirls slow,
there appear open doors.
but
The locks are no where to be found
The keys?
All scattered on the floor.
What is that, hissing sound?
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
We were at a club in Paris called L’Arc. It’s an outdoor club (spring break plus covid safety) that’s underneath the Arc de Triomphe. It’s 10PM and we’re coming from a night tour of the Louvre. The night sky was clear and it was 65°f. I was with my posse of (3) roommates and two guardiennes (provided by my Grandmère) who travel with us at all times.
The man chatting me up was as hot as middle-school but honestly, it was hard to fake an interest in whatever he was saying. Was my ½ interest going to ruin us - this thing we’d shared for 5 minutes? No, he seemed to say, our connection was stronger than that.
Finally, I focused on his WORDS. It was hard because the music was so loud. Hey, this is off-topic but who’s your favorite French band? You don’t HAVE one, do you? No, because they ALL positively felate.
It turns out that he was a tiger - inviting me home for a respectfully quiet banging session - because he lived with his mother. I reacted like any college freshman would at first by thinking I was about to be sick.
Don’t flag me as antisex (If we’re flagging), I like a joystick now and then. They’re cute and like dogs, they’re always glad to see you. But the idea was disgustingly retro - my parent dodging days are over. Besides, our (roommate) agreement for this trip ostensibly forbids random hookups and did I mention our two escorts in tow?
I kept my cool. After all, we had another tray of shooters coming - staying put was clearly the right decision. He took my semi-blank reaction for the rejection it was and disappeared back into the crowd. C'est la vie
Mar 23, 2022
Mar 23, 2022 at 12:33 PM UTC
I'm staring down at my arm holding a knife,
It may be only in my head, but I'm balancing my life,
Weighing out if it's worth the pain,
That I've been dealing with, making me more insane,
I've been ******* over so many times, by people who said they cared,
Well, maybe it's time I give up and stop trying so hard,
Because I've taken all the medications they want to give me,
I've done years and years, so much talking in therapy,
And still I'm here, contemplating the end of it all,
Because there's just so many times you can get up after a fall,
And it's a lie when they say you can always dust off your knees,
After laying on the ground, getting up and praying for release,
Because I've done my time, being miserable and in hurt,
And I just want some relief from sitting in the dirt,
Someone once told me you can always call me when you don't feel safe,
Well I don't want to be a burden, because I'd be calling every day,
Because lately I've been feeling down, feeling wrong,
About the past and all the things people have done,
And yeah, I'm more of a sinner than a saint at the end of the day,
But that's just the role that these deeds have cast me in to play,
For being abused at such young of an age,
And now I hate myself and want to pay,
Cosmically, permanently, with a smile on my face,
Because it would all be over, I can't keep up this pace,
The pills,
The thrills,
The ****
The greed,
The hookups,
The makeups,
The alcohol,
The temptation of it all,
And everything in between,
I want to atone for my deeds,
It's a lie when they say you can always dust off your knees,
After laying on the ground, getting up and praying for release,
Because I've done my time, being miserable and in hurt,
And I just want some relief from sitting in the dirt.
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 7:54 PM UTC
Daydreamed illusion,
A rusted dream in a melted fusion.
I am a disillusioned angel,
Drop a tear in my wine glass.
Look at those wild eyes,
Feel the calm fire they cry.
See what you mean to me,
Sweet cakes and milkshakes.
Limousine eyelash, oh baby what a pretty face.
A touch of sensuality and a heavenly grace.
I am a fantasy parade,
Of words that your lips spake.
To think about those nights and those hookups,
A person meant to only look up.
I won't forget you ever,
Nor would you, I know.
I could hear each of your breath,
Wondering how on your head would rest a halo wreath.
We are like broken branches flowing in a river,
I will carry you, you will carry me.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
Today I see people who want relationships, but aren't willing to put in the work, to be honest we all have done it.
They want the feel of a relationship but not the title, they want to date but have others on the side. Hookups are a must but a date is too much.
They send explicit pics saying how much they want it, instead of a message detailing how much they want the person and just them. If the message is sent it's to more than one.
They want the *** but not the work, most people nowadays don't care for relationships and it makes me sad especially when you think you have connected with them on a level that is second to none but once they get what they want they are gone.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 2:22 PM UTC
We met in the midst of dust motes floating around the old chalkboard-classroom of University Hall. You introduced me to Amber – your close friend, I thought – and your thirst for after-tutorial Starbucks between 11:20 and 11:35 a.m. After all, what did it even matter to be five minutes late to class when we will all one day be so; what did it even matter if none of it ever really does when the curtain drops, when the record ends, when the symphony of consciousness rises to a close. So you went for Starbucks, and I walked to lecture alone – vying for that front-row chair so that I might ease the pain in my hips – and watched, noticed you in the months afterward, through red winter parkas and brown spring attire – until we met again in the odorous lab of second-year microbiology, and you drew me into your world of friends, of housemates, of late-night wine and cheese gatherings – until my heart – that soft, useless thing – quickened its beat upon hearing your stories of ex-crushes and Halloween near-hookups with a would-have-being-a-bad-decision girl. You drew me into you, you: an everyday girl, who in my daydreams was hardly so; I latched onto you and pulled myself out of that dark, solitary hole – because you were there, you were there, you were always there. I let myself be swept away by that river of friends, of daydreams, of late-night phone calls about life, the universe, and your complaints about organic chemistry. I turned a blind eye, because the illusion was far better than the solitude, better than watching my life collapse again into that small, small state. I let slide it all: the apathy, the sleep abnormalities, the ****** innuendos, until I texted you a few nights ago, two minutes into a rising panic initiated by the realization that my ex had killed themselves – a discovery that later proved to be untrue – and you replied with laughter and an inability to help. You just don't know; you just don't see that to complain of your ex-girlfriend's low libido is a reflection on you, not her, or even the two of you – so I put down the phone; I ignored the messages for a day, then two, and my world changed, opened anew –
I can live without you.
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 12:42 AM UTC
Love, we are going to meet on Tinder.
or by the sea, in a four 'o clock rain, or maybe
while I sat alone at a cafe pretending to write,
and you'd come to me and say "Hi, I couldn't help but notice
how colorful you are on this grey morning."
or something more realistic.
We'll laugh a lot, make jokes to seem anything but boring,
and initially say a lot of "Um, so..."s to fill the silence.
You are going to catch yourself thinking of the brown in my hair,
the scent of the side of my neck, my skin in morning light
and I am going to memorize the lines on your palms like my favorite song.
Darling,
we'll kiss on my terrace and talk until, skies turn to drizzle and drizzle,
it turns to rain
and we would run, and kiss, and laugh, and kiss and burn like bonfire,
and the blues and reds from our chaos-painted bodies,
will turn into streams of purple, violet, lavender.
For a moment somewhere in between,
I will glance at your closed eyelids while you kiss me,
and wonder if you are here to stay.
In just that glance, I'd see dawns, teacups, naps on airplanes, and
several days, months, maybe years of quick glances at your closed eyelids.
And you, are going to spend days thinking of me at insignificant times,
like an old song from an advertisement you thought you forgot.
We'll talk, and then not talk and I will write you a poem or two
and you will say something like, "I appreciate that."
Years after, I'd be reaching for tea in the cabinet and maybe Twinings would remind me of you and I would stir you,
in my cup of tea like sugar till you dissolve to nothing.
and you will tell another girl
of how you haven't been a part of something serious in a while, "just a couple hookups" you'd say and think of me.
And all that there will be of us,
is an empty terrace somewhere stained purple, violet, lavender.
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 4:43 PM UTC
Why is it
That creatives like us
Gain popularity
A following, so to speak,
By churning out love poems
Lines of our past, often failed
Relationships and semi hookups
I know I am guilty of this
You caught me red-handed
But I'm inquiring because
Sometimes, the best food for thought
Is found in poems, not about love
But about failure, success, pity
Growth, maturity, lack there of
Maybe, indulge me
Maybe the best pieces of work
Are outside the realm of human intimacy
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 9:39 PM UTC
DOES SHE KNOW THAT YOU HATE YOUR DAD BECAUSE HE USED TO USE YOU SO HE COULD GO CHEAT ON YOUR MOM AND DOES SHE KNOW THAT YOU HATE THE SOUND OF SOMEONE CRACKING THEIR KNUCKLES AND DOES SHE KNOW ABOUT YOUR PAST HOOKUPS AND DOES SHE KNOW YOU REGRET NOT SPENDING ENOUGH TIME WITH YOUR GRANDFATHER THAT LIVES IN FLORIDA AND DOES SHE KNOW THAT YOUR FAVORITE THING TO ORDER AT ZAXBY'S IS THE WINGS AND THINGS AND DOES SHE KNOW THAT I WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SLEPT WITH AND DOES SHE KNOW YOU'LL LEAVE HER WITHOUT SAYING A WORD LIKE YOU LEFT ME?
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
Happiness is just a dopamine rush.
I find myself doing outlandish things to acquire this feeling.
Looking for things that will pump hot adrenaline through my cold veins.
But adrenaline does not compare to dopamine,
or the phenylethylamines that made me murmur
“I love you” as I lay in your arms.
If I could just find something that compares to your kiss on my forehead.
Neurons firing under the pressure of hot lips.
And every time I chase this feeling I fail.
I can feel myself being ****** into a downward spiral
of rebound hookups and late nights that
I can’t seem to remember.
It seems as though the only drug my body comes to life for
is your penetrating gaze, that dilates my pupils
and hands on the small of my back,
that send deep pangs of longing into my stomach.
Nothing makes me feel more alive than
your fingers in my hair and your voice in my ears.
A brain consumed by love can be as deadly
as one consumed by drugs.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
you liked my body,
yet rejected my mind.
I craved conversation,
yet you desired touch.
I shared my thoughts,
yet you shared unsolicited provoking pictures.
you wanted secret hookups at midnight,
yet denied picnics at noon.
and yet, I still thought you were different.
May 14, 2020
May 14, 2020 at 10:06 PM UTC