letters to a boy-face.

Dear D,

I realize I can’t hate Red-Leggings.
She loves you.
Like I once did, and sort of still do.
She doesn’t know me, who I am or was to you.
She smiles to much for a girl sharing a boy.
There is no hurt.

Dear D,

What Seb has, you seem to lack.
What Seb has, I need.
What I need is commitment.
I will take it from him,
But do I still wait for you?

Dear D,
Last night was our final night.
I push you out of bed and on to my floor, right next to your clothes.
I watch you pull your jeans on, over your naked legs for the last time.
I watch your chest rise and fall next to mine for the last time.
Your lips crush mine deep and fierce for the last time.
I smell you on my skin and sheets for the last time.

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August 13, 2007. dating, love, memory, men, sex.

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