This is easy.
I was so good at being everyone's girlfriend,
so good at being quiet and pretty,
putting on makeup and taking off clothes.
So this is easy.
I get to be an air headed boy,
and you fucking love it,
of course you do.
Knew you would like me,
that I could get you hooked.
This is easy.
Your lips on my neck was the worst thing I ever felt,
the way my stomach turned-
you're lucky I'm never going to tell you about it.
I only like boys until they're really there.
Guess I learned that the hard way.
I don't want to touch you and
I hate the way you breathe around me.
you're lucky I'm never going to tell you about it
when you're so easy to open up to,
like a jar of apricot preserves-
so sweet, could sink right in.
and I'm an open god damn book.
You're lucky I have nothing else to say.
YOU ARE READING
Everything left to complain about (stopped) (go read my other poem book)
PoetryPoems and strings of words that don't qualify as poems, from all four years of high school until the summer after freshman year of college. My recent works and anything I continue to write can be found in my new poem book, "Open your hands and say s...
