the more girls a boy has, the better. he has a bright look, having reaped fruits, blooming. he stalks around, sure-shouldered, and you have the feeling he's got more in him, a fatter heart, more stories to tell. for a girl, with each boy it's like a petal gets plucked each time.
...you don't even ask for anything or try to say something to him because it's obviously your own damn fault. you haven't been able to---to what? to open your heart. you open your legs but can't, or don't dare anymore, to open your heart.
it starts this way:
you stare into their eyes. they flash like all the stars are out. they look at you seriously, their eyes at a low burn and their hands no matter what starting off shy and with such a gentle touch that the only thing you can do is take that tenderness and let yourself be swept away. when, with one attentive finger they tuck the hair behind your ear, you---
you do everything they want.
then comes after. after when they don't look at you. they scratch their balls, stare at the ceiling. or if they do turn, their gaze is altogether changed. they are surprised. they turn casually to look at you, distracted, and get a mild distracted surprise. you're gone. their black look tells you that the girl they were fucking is not there anymore. you seem to have disappeared.
i am not the girl i was once was. or the girl i want to be. fuck i am just a girl still!
05 April 2005
04 April 2005
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
