when we fucked for the first time

it was glorious

though i still can’t decide,

upon reflection,

whether it was the execution or the alcohol.

when we fucked again it was still good;

anticipation made me want and

watching your body move,

knowing that what was underneath would soon be mine

was a potent spur.

the fourth time we were together

you told me i was attractive

– such a damning phrase –

and that we were friends.

i told you we weren’t

and then you came.

and i still can’t decide,

upon reflection and with time’s passing,

whether i miss the you that is you,

your smile and wit and charm,

or i just need to feel you throw me up against a wall

one last time.

By Em

I like writing. Words help me unpack my thoughts so things start to make sense. I suppose that once I figure out life, the universe, and everything (my thanks to Douglas Adams), I'll have nothing left to say. "Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing, and learn as you go." E. L. Doctorow

1 comment

Leave a comment

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.