the beekeeper.

masochism.

you're a horribly
brash and self
absorbed boy
but still, i am
sucked into your
vortex and so
desperately in
need of your lips,
your hands along
my puffy body.

even though i
cry at the thought
of you seeing me
bare and exposed
with each rolling
hill of my stomach
and the handles
prominently poised
against my hips i
still crave for your
touch and your
breath and your
words of comfort:
"i swear to you,
you are beautiful."

i still want you
even though i
know you would
much rather touch
that red-headed
succubus like we
teased about many
months ago than
lay a hand on this
beached, rotten
whale that i am.

tell me pretty lies
look me in the face
and tell me that
you want to tie me
up and teach me
that it is unholy
and disrespectful
to speak without
your permission.
smack me, degrade
me and yell that i
am your ungrateful
brat, to whine and
cry over your lack
of fondness and
compliments, for
that's what i crave.

you say you want
my body but lord
you are unaware
of how lumpy and
uneven and bulbous
everything looks and
how squishy the skin
feels, how fat and
how thick it is.

what do i have
to offer you, my
love? self hate
and a body of
blubber and of
sour thoughts?
a prominent
nose and an
unforgiving
forehead? or
glasses rimmed
with soggy makeup
and thighs lined
with screaming,
wide canyons that
resulted from so
much erosion?

baby, i think i
may feed off
the way you
avoid me in
public. i think
i draw energy
and lust from
the secrecy of
us, even though
i sob at the thought
of you being oh so
ashamed of your
little miss piggy.
have you uttered
my name to your
friends? have you
chuckled about my
insolence and sassy
ways to your loving
mother? or is your
ropebunny hidden
in a field, tied and
wailing for someone
to see her with a
collar carved with
your titleship?

i tell myself and
i inform my friends
that i want you to
show me off to all
of your khakied
friends and your
german brother,
and i weep into
freckled, bruised
knees at the idea
that you will not
want me when the
time comes, but
you know i'm daddy's
little masochist, and
i suppose i'll shush
my whining for
the right time.