Creative Writing · Free Write · Healing · Personal · Prose · Reflection · Sex · Writing

On how you used to fuck me…

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It was cold out but the Sailor Jerry in my stomach kept me warm, my head was light as I felt tingling spread through me. I held onto your arm. The train passing by graffitied walls and the back of dark city buildings. The car was mostly empty and I wanted you right there. We had left the gas station bathroom to seek a better place to fuck but couldn’t find anywhere. So we sat on the train, the tension almost unbearable. I looked at your lips, your drunken smile was irresistible and I imagined your body all over mine. There was a sensation pulsing between my legs and I felt moisture run over the edge of my panties. I could see your rock hard cock through your pants.


There was barely a block between the train station and my home. We stopped every few feet to kiss each other. Hands all over. I remember you grabbing my face to bring me up toward you. We stumbled in through the front door. Clothes were thrown about the living room and you lifted me up to the kitchen counter. Your thick fingers slipped inside my pussy and your mouth moved over my neck. I thought I never wanted it to stop and I told you to take me to my bed. You threw me down, pushed my legs apart  and then pulled me to the edge. “Fuck me.” I looked up at  and grabbed your hips to guide you into me. Your hands were tangled in my hair as you pressed against me over and over again. Skin to skin. I held onto your biceps. You turned me over and around. My ass bounced against your body and I wondered if you liked that. You kissed my back and called me beautiful. Your hands grasped my breasts as we pushed between each other. You fucked me hard, so hard and your cock fit perfectly inside of me. Tight and all the way through. Time passed by and I wondered if I was even still alive. I was no longer myself. I was a being unrecognizable. You looked me right in the eyes and moaned on how good it felt to be inside of me. I begged you to fuck me harder and faster. I screamed and wrapped my arms around you. Tears ran down my cheeks. You asked if I was okay and I told you “please don’t stop.”


Hours passed or perhaps an entire lifetime. The light from the street lamp peeked through the space in the blinds. The universe our only witness. I pushed you harder and said “Come inside me.” I could feel you throbbing as your warm fluid filled me. We collapsed around each other. Our arteries pulsated on various spots within our bodies and I could not feel the difference between our flesh. I was you and we were something no one else could ever be.


I think about these memories. I wonder if any man could ever fuck me the same. Fuck me until I forget. Fuck me until the skin peels off my back. I wonder at the intensity and how we could not keep ourselves off each other. And I remember at the end how you wouldn’t let me touch you. How you grabbed my hands and threw them off your chest as I begged you to still love me. To not leave me alone. I wanted it again and again. Masochistic is what they called me. I think I am still looking for that in other people. Nice guys don’t have it in them and perhaps neither do I. 

Creative Writing · Depression · Free Write · I Miss You · Melancholy · Poetry · Pondering · Writing

Free Write

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*

*

I considered calling you

I thought about all of the things you could say to me

To make me feel guilty enough

Into loving you again


I sat on a couch with another

All of the windows peering

Between him and I

Arms folded

I wanted to reach for your hand

But thought better of it

Remembered what you said about affection


I miss how you would hold my face

And smile so sweet and slyly

I recalled that feeling

Outloud and along the thorns

I bleed for you


Everyday

I look for the passion that rolls inside

Those substance induced

Moments

Of you fucking me over and over again

Until tears ran down my thighs

The wetness of your cheeks

A handful of hair


I can not seem to find this in anyone

Drunk strangers with their hands all over

They touch the small of my back

And I get glimpses

Of all the terrible things they would do to me

Like you


Flags waving through the icy crystals around the temple

Lights glitter among the horizon

I don’t know what they want

Or why you still call for me

Why the rains

Keep on pouring


I turn off my phone

I go on running

Broken Up · Creative Writing · Depression · Healing · I Miss You · Melancholy · Personal · Poetry · Sadness · Writing

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I am still in love with you.

Most days.

Even when I hate you and I know we are no good for each other.

I go only short amounts of time before you pass through my thoughts again.

My heart breaks every time I read your words.

I want to write back.

I would send you a thousand lines of the love I have for you… but I know your time is fleeting.

And I spend countless days in recovery.

I want to see you and hold your hand.

I want to walk in the rain and shoot shotguns at the night sky wearing nothing but the bad attitude that clings to people like me and you.

But I know I can not have my heart broken again and I can’t help but think you may be my broken heart.

I have you always.

Pulsating in the cavern of my chest.

I have felt you a thousand years and back.

Do you feel me too?

I have always wondered.

Am I a play thing, a fantasy, a destiny?

I cry out at night.

I wake up and you are still not beside me.

My heart lingers of that place where maybe you once love me.

I walk away from you, a trail of crumbs to my heart.

Creative Writing · Dark · Dreams · Free Write · Poetry

Nightmare

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*

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It’s always you

Coming back in without permission

Invading my mind

You try to fuck me like the old days

And tell me i am overreacting

I watch you turn away

And disappear

This time her name is rachel

But i see her as a mirror

A compact i used to own

And i break her

In that porcelain bowl over and over

Then steal her and her money

It’s vegas

And were trapped in cars

Where i still can’t find mine

Shitting bags of vegetables

And ripping my skin off

Raw pieces i can not hide

Creative Writing · Melancholy · Personal · Poetry · Reflection · Relationships · Writing

Two Years

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**

I could talk about how on this day two years ago you broke me. How a piece of me was cut out, burned and brushed away.


I could recollect on leaning on that raw wooden post, a cigarette in hand but I won’t.


I will not talk about how you left me at my most vulnerable moment. Or how I yearned for any morsel of your affection to be told, “I never loved you.”


Seven years and a thousand lifetimes passed as you lived with the one you did not love.


Still, we will not remember such things.


Even on tonight when I sung along to the music that defined us, you and I. How we ran on punk rock, drunken nights, and playing lovebirds in the desert. The music and the wind runs through it.


This dead salty memory.


No, today I will recall how these things did not and could not defeat me.


How the darkness of one defining moment could not stop the sun’s rising.


Two years and I run from you like the horse in that field. The grass below my feet and the future a bold blue sky.


And even on tonight when I vow not to speak of you, I can not help but miss your presence. In the dark desert sands the music plays on.


Without you. 

Creative Writing · Depression · Free Write · Poetry · Pondering · Writing

What am I?

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*

What am I?

A mass of memories

Firing between cells

Billions of rows of suffering

And multiplying by the wayside


What am I?

A cold person

Walking through the hallway

Down the street

Another face to pass 


What am I?

They called me a woman

Still I took off my shirt

They said the streets are for men

And that I would get hurt


What am I?

A soul wandering

Never satisfied

There is no home for those

That can not find comfort


And I know you will run from me…


What am I?

They asked

A five year plan

Or a family

These are the things you will be remembered by


Not by the quiet firefly

Or by the blades of grass you felt between your toes

Not the wind in your face

On the playground

Or in the field on your own


The sun will be the only one to remember your face

The billions of passerbys

Just stopping to say hello

Creative Writing · Free Write · Melancholy · Poetry · Reflection · Writing

Mommies 

Today

Conversing with you

I asked about your earliest memory

And you told me about the time you

could not find your mother

How your baby sister cried and cried

So you picked her up in your tiny arms

and carried her through the rooms

You took her down the giant wooden steps

into the dark basement

And your small but strong arms

still held onto your sister

As you continued to call out

You started crying as you admitted to me

That it was your scariest memory

And it made me think perhaps

This is who I am

Generations of scared little girls

Still searching for their mommies


I recall tonight how precious these moments are

As I remember the last time I sat with Grandpa

In that same room

Four hours passed

Without noticing

Without counting the time

Sometimes you just can not know


I have an image of us walking on the beach

I was 13 and we kicked off our sandals

Sand squishing in our toes

We were gone two hours and missed dinner


I will always remember the smell of your home

Mixed with your perfume

And grandpa’s cigarettes

Sometimes I get a lingering scent

As I walk down the street

Or through a hall

The words do not exist

The letters jumble and fade

Like another day

We wash this world away