I'm not good enough to feel loved in the ways I wish for.
I only ever seem to be good enough for my body,
for the whimpers these boys so wish to hear,
seeping past my lips,
while their parts go deeper and deeper, until it hurts.
But it's okay,
it's okay,
because he gets what he wishes for.
he gets the whimpers he always tell me to give.
the whimpers he tells me to speak louder and louder.
The whimpers my lips are capable of,
are the only thing I'm good for.
only good for whimpers.
I'm only good for my legs,
that wrap around him tightly,
his body parts praising my actions,
telling me that I'm good enough in these ways.
the ways that truly only matter to him.
no matter how loveable I tell myself I am,
the only kind of love that matters to him,
is the love of my whimpers.
the love my body parts give to him every time he asks.
YOU ARE READING
my lover poets
Storie d'amorethe thoughts about love. Simplicity form yet addictive to consume your mind over. Love isn't always perfect. (I know I'm not a perfect writer in poetry, but I thought it would be fun to write out some thoughts I have, and things I've learned int...
