I forgot
how your hands
made me feel.
And I don't know if I truly
like him,
I think you know
that he's a distraction.
However, I think
you're just
a tiny bit jealous.
Which is why you want me now.
He's charming
and dutiful
and so handsome.
A perfect prince.
I'd like to imagine something
normal with him.
Something sweet and innocent.
He's a decoy.
Yet he's only half a glass of mild wine with a full meal.
You're 10 shots of vodka with no chaser that
leaves me blacking out and
making me
forget myself.
You've been given everything
and
you only want me
because I'm not something
you can buy.
I not something you can just own
just because.
You're a fuck boy,
a man-whore
but what the fuck
boy
I want to
fuck with you
boy
and
be a whore for
a man who doesn't
truly care about me.
This is my own cocktail of
self-harm.
