He meant to fuck me
And I meant to love him
I took off my clothes
Knowing that only one of our needs
were being met
I told myself not to hope
Just move your hips back and forth
Like you love the smell of his sweat
Moan as if he gives you
Life with his breath
Breathing out slow and ragged
Do not ask for more than he gives
Never wish to be his
Don’t hold your breath
waiting to be called beautiful
Lest you die an early death
That’s what I tell myself
That my hopes,
My wishes,
Should be swallowed back
A lump in my throat
Tastes like him
Can I get a drink of water?
“It’s in the kitchen
With your shoes and coat”,
He says…
Drive safe on your way back home
Asleep in his bed
before I’ve shut the door behind me
Poetry on Paper 