this is what i've written lately.
How you paw at me, pulling at my nipples with
lips and teeth like an infant, how you cling
to me in a crowd like a jealous toddler, and
though I love you tenderly, I wonder
were you not loved enough?
But you are not a child, with your
man-sized hands and muscles, and I’m not
your mother, stretched and and worn though I
am with the labor of you, I struggle
for air, I cannot carry you in front of me,
in a papoose of love. You weigh me down,
laying on top of me, in
the sweat of night, between our bodies
tangled up in the hair and the musk, there is
a tension, unnamable and undiscussed, it hangs
like a specter, as malignant as Achilles’ heel,
we push it aside, out of our minds, as you
roll off me, I feel the weight of it
and you relent and instantly
it is replaced by a void
I long to feel it on me
again and you can join too
without it my mind is blank
though I am full of potential
children that would cling to me like
you, that should cause me enough worry, but instead
I focus on you, on what we are not
saying in the stillness of the night.
and this....
People sleeping with strangers
Faceless, loveless.
Lovers tossing each other aside,
dirty laundry on the floor
still warm from the body
forgotten and discarded
after a quick fuck
and a hot shower,
in hopes of someone new to wear.
Fools, the lot of them, you know.
I want to be just like you.
Reduced to apes and Romans
gluttons to flesh. I don’t think
I could be just like you.
I like to touch when I’m in bed
I like to get drunk off
of kisses and the taste of
your soul.
But your past affairs sear
my mind and heart. I don’t know
if I want to know you, sometimes.
I think my jealousy would taste
like warm, salted milk.
Kind of like you.
I wonder how you touched them
kissed them.
I wonder many things that will get me nowhere.
I wonder if you realize
the differences...
This is the first time I've written in six weeks.
Chris and I are unravelling. We spent the last night drunk, and after we tore into each others bodies with our mindless orgy, we tore into each other with words and secrets and truths. I feel there is no way to salvage this. I don't trust him. I know he has alterior motives with other girls and he won't admit to them. I know my self-esteem drags him down so much he's got road burn. And we fight about that. About my small tits. About the girls he slept with while he wasn't with me. About Matt. I feel knots in my gut.
I was looking forward to a visit from Matt tomorrow until tonight. He's spending the night with Meagan. As if to twist the knife. I feel like my spirit is just so broken. I was doing so well this afternoon. I thought I could handle anything that was thrown at me. But no. There is barely a chance to reclaim my relationship with Chris and there isn't one at all with Matt. I hope he tells me tomorrow that he's slept with her. So I can just move the fuck on. I hate myself for doing this, making the wrong choices? Did I?
Fuck.
fuckfuckfuck.