Some girls were born to be keepers.
Some girls were born to be heartbreakers.
I just wanted someone to hold me in their arms
while keeping them at a distant arm.
You see, I’m too young, too unstable,
too afraid to ever seek out love.
The one-time bathroom fuck, one year relationship.
Double-ended dildos, hands choking me into ecstasy.
Ever mixed your crystal meth with your viagra?
Not a pretty sight.
Been there, seen it all.
I hate hate hate the touch of a stranger on my body.
Pupils blown wide, get the fuck away from me.
A little bit of that whiskey,
lights vibrating to the chemistry of that mdma.
You can’t hear the music playing in my head,
shut the fuck up and leave me be.
we’re nothing more than hollowed out bodies
clawing out each other for empty pleasure.
But when the high fades away,
blood have simmered down,
I find myself wishing for more that this.
To not be watching a girl piss on herself,
tied face down to a mattress.
Or scratching the back of a faceless man,
secreted semen seeping out.
I want to wake up to a familiar warmth beside me.
To not have to even open my eyes and know
the span of this person’s arms, heartbeats
favorite childhood memory, goals, desires – everything.
But for this to happen demands more
than I’ll ever be able to give away.
To want to share, cherish, and build together…
to trust someone else?
I’ve wrapped myself up in control for so long now,
wear it like a second skin –
it protects me from the lips grazing this outer body.
Breaking my own heart will always be safer than
giving it away.