With everyone else I think:
I’m so fucking tired of sending pictures to online strangers especially since nobody is fucking interesting at all. They just want to inspect every inch of your body like its a fucking modeling audition just to have a cup of coffee in public and meeting them is pointless, since no one has one intelligent or thoughtful comment to bring to a casual conversation. They are all disposable human beings, pathetic Polaroid pawns….
And then with him I think:
A hundred and nineteen of his words later
and I’m shaking.
Each one, crafted with a chisel
Each one, a poisonous pin prick-
I’d do anything; for more
I’d crawl for more
I’d give all of my money
I’d plead for more
I’d cry and break glass
whatever it could take or would
to just get one more word from his lips
I’m a child and a fool
one more ‘no’…
He doesn’t see me
I’d do anything, I have no regrets
But his absence-
A mere twelve hours of silence later
and I’m shaking still, trapped.
Each thought, self manipulation
Each thought, his to control…
He may not even be that great, I know. But he has never asked me for a picture. He just took a chance that my mind had something worthwhile in it… and now, I’m addicted.