loverboy

i think about the boy now even when i don’t want to

he

is no longer optional

he was my luxury. my icing. now he’s the whole fucking cake and then some

and i’d like to write him love letters but all i end up saying is i wanna beat you up and watch you bleed on my sheets

(even though what i’m feeling must be nicer than that)

note 1: he likes fucking women while they still have their skirts on

note 2: last time he came down my throat he called me ‘baby’ and i swear to fuck it’s ‘cause he forgot my name

he mumbles endearments into my cunt as well as my ear and he says he prefers me dirty

loverboy

you know who you are