Did I just take his virginity?
I think I took his virginity.
I took his virginity didn’t I?
I felt him in me.
I was his first
But my first was my last
And that one left me like the warmth
And I’m empty.
Your tongue lashed at me
with the anger of a stranger today
Where is that tongue I know
That wanted to ravage me
Until I was brimming
With ecstasy?
This first time
was a surprise
that was building up
since he fed me something cold and creamy
or when the nearly empty movie theater beckoned us to its back seats
and in the car there afterwards
magic hands until drivers interrupted
but the second visiting
of the juxtaposition of an unfamiliar religion
received two rubber gifts
and super sweaty satisfied customers
rolling out of the lot
with precipitous windows.
I shall ache in the morning
Again to die in my worth
I have but died thrice today already
Shamed once, rejected twice, seen my remnants in the third
Splattered ‘bout the ground.
And I am left with an empty
Fullness in my stomach
Where he once was and now is
But a sore menace
Thundering through me still.
We were savages today
But only for a little while
He was crazed by the mirrors in my bedroom
That gave him a good look at my nicely contorted body
Bare against him with many crescents like a moon.
But something wasn’t meant to be
Today the sun refused to shine on our acts
So he polluted me and laid down to hold
Me, and try and smooth my unsatisfied cracks
We ended up on a couch
Where it’s been so long only one other has been there.
And he wanted to be held until I let him go
Through the door with a kiss and cold cold air.
I remember giving up on poetry a few months ago. The same time when I decided to give it one last go and just send out random writings written by flickering light madness. Some had a point, others had no reason.
Months later when that chaos was forgotten and poetry became a lost format in my thoughts I receive notification that a measly poem written out of observation was to be published alongside those of strangers.
My poem of a bursting firefly as opposed to the ones bleeding with lovejuice, or rusting with irony. Rather than truth, they cry give me form and appropriation, I could never love a slut whose mouth and fingers always give way to a riverbed of carnal primitive desires.
But if you won’t, who will?
I found a starling today.
Mother man-woman hand’s slid front.
And I lived in the fantasy of
That hand pulsating lower, her cunt.
Every single single every
that is around me will cease to be singular.
When I find myself
Adjoining myself to them,
Much like a parasite to its host.
Every single single every
Looks more appealing after the first.
Looks more virtuous after the destruction
Smells more lovely after the trenches,
And feels more reliable after the fall.
Every single single every
Was my one at one point.
My Lover of some sort,
Passionate maybe or reserved
Whether it be cadaverous or soul.
Every single single every
if one thing it can be.
Is that they are all a palindrome of the other
Preceding, back to me.
Wrath shan’t not torture
But disappointment shall rot
My self-dignity.
I don’t love this one
But he is sweet and unbroken
And full of the tenderness that I gave to someone else
And the purity that I ruined for another someone else
But I’m sure I’ll learn to love this one
So that I’ll look for someone with the quality control
And certainty of my self
That I would have sacrificed for this one.
Silence gently falls
As the winter icicle
Scrapes my bloody wound.
Toss me your tears, caught
In its resting place with me:
Your loyal shoulder.
No maryjane
(Not even the womanly kind)
Nor that butt, crack,
Nor overrated heroines
Nor tall dicks that make
Chicks fly.
But let me take the real poisons,
The ones that remind how low I am,
How much lower into the mud
I should wallow
Until the earth and dirt is nothing more
Than mushroom shit.
Satiated by the saliva of dogs.
I love you.
You are sinful
Selfish
Abusive
And a presumptuous
human being
But I would lie with you
In a puddle of filth
Just to give you that comradeship.
I would stay with you
by your side
even if it means
I have to hear
your broken tears
fall into this puddle,
over him.
You thought you could love me
But you realized otherwise.
I was sure I would never fall for you
But you trip me flat on my face
And flog me with your pure love
Reserved for him and only him.
I don’t need much these days,
I don’t mind waking up in the mornings with the knowledge that I’m not allowed to think of him with my flesh
Just as long as I can be someone important to him
Even though that means I’m the shoulder to cry on
Instead of the one to cry for.
Just let me hug you even though I know you’ll flinch
Most probably in disgust.
It’s difficult when the one you love is bisexual,
And has something you will never have.
Or not even that,
Considering you are the same,
Just the fact that
He loves someone who possesses him
Like you never will.
I’m sorry this is not a striking poem, but it’s just the truth of my state.
Inject me with love.
Incapacitate all thought
And I’ll surrender.
