Words, Words, Words, about men

Hold my purse

Maybe next time you should cover up

Maybe next time you shouldn’t be so easy to fuck

Maybe just maybe you should speak up

How about maybe next time you walk in my shoes

See what your mouth would say as if you have no respect for yourself; like I do

Maybe right?

Because as women we aren’t supposed to be idolized

Just sexualized

Sit down

Hold my hand

Don’t get mad when I grab you

It’s just your knee

Speak when only spoken to

Too emotional, stop crying

Needy, until YOU want me

My anxiety is a cover up

Hoe when you sleep with more than two

I was probably never going to love you

YOU SAID.

because maybe, right?

Just Nintendo

It was just a game

Two controllers plugged in

You pressed the button stating start

I watched you cheat and play dirty

You watched me, you watched me playing

Every move I made you used in my dismay

I played the game, you played me

But, it was just a game

Two controllers plugged in

I pressed the button stating start

You watched me cheat and play dirty

I watched you, I watched you playing

Every move you made I used in your dismay

You played the game, I played you

But it was just a game

Two controllers plugged in

Mr. Whiskey

You are every smooth touch, quivering my bottom lip

Pulsing through a brick wall

Cracking every inch that was built by men before you

Comfortable yet terrifying

I am okay without you

But that feeling..

Man that feeling lighting every wet match that once was useless

Words finally with meaning

Dancing without rhythm

In and out of the reality

Unknown reciprocation

Like an addict needing a fix

Trying not to want it

Let me go back to that first sip

Mr. Whiskey

Satin Sheets

Rustling beneath the covers,

Silent whispers of words thought left unspoken,

Hands awkwardly placed,

Eyes fumbling,

Tidal waves crashing into unknown layers of the soul.

Breathing in the intoxicating cologne that spells me,

Suspended in this universe,

Heart accelerating,

Thinking of time; times of thinking,

Scared of not being with you,

Palms up to the one I never thought existed,

Hoping to never lose the infectious beauty of your presence.

There is this elegance to it,

Complicated yet satisfying,

A silver platter of raw emotions,

I, you, we become more and more like a riddle never to be solved,

Passion used only at night,

Appendages jumbled, an accordion of hands and feet fashioned into rhythmic motions,

A gaze from which you can’t look away.

Yet...