letters to a boy-face. trois

Dear D2,

i realize i don’t want to fall in love with you
i can not
i will not

but i guess i already have

not the sweet sugary love
the rough tough love

the wrap my legs around you
suck and bite you
kind of love

the fuck me
fuck you
dirty love is all i have for you.


April 19, 2008. dating, men, sex. Leave a comment.

sawmill creek

it’s 3pm on a thursday
i’m drinking sauvignon blanc courtesy of my friends at Sawmill Creek.
it’s about half an ikea tumbler full, just enough to make my insides twist
my head warm and fuzzy.

I understand that with out the bad
one can not enjoy the good
I understand that with out the sense of loss
one can not understand how lucky it is to have it all
I understand that when I fall
I must get back up
But I don’t want to.
Not with out you.

Should I sit here waiting for you to come home to me?
Should I find you and touch your skin again?
Remind you of the past good and erase present bad.

The smell of you leave my sheets now.
The scent of your skin no longer on my lips.
I suppose I was expecting this…
but not the hurt that comes along with it.

Should I sit here waiting for you to come home to me?
kiss me again
love me again
touch me again
Or was last night the goodbye.
If so
sorry baby
sorry baby
know that i will miss you

January 10, 2008. dating, love, men. 1 comment.

you give me fever

i’ve got a friend.
suffering from yellow fever.
“I can’t help it!” he says.

I find ethno-fetishes a little bizarre.
what every happened to free love and being color blind.
jungle fever
yellow fever
bamboo lover

i find it a little strange that there are terms for sexual fetishes based on the color of one’s skin.
Or maybe I find it hard to believe because I have never felt that way about any one before.

leave your comments .
I’d like to know what you all think.

December 23, 2007. dating. 1 comment.

before i knew better

i have become one of those girls
that waits by the phone
hoping that he will call.

i have become one of those girls
that drinks vodka and coke
that waits by the phone
hoping that he will call.

i have become on of those girls
listening to sad love songs
that is drinks vodka and coke
that waits by the phone
hoping that he will call.

10 minutes to 11 pm
and I am waiting.
i hate the butterflies in my tummy
that flurry about when i think of him.
I hate my heart for falling for him
i hate my mind for failing to make me smarter, better and stronger.

so I have become one of those girls
waiting by the phone
hoping that he will call
hoping he will come over
and our fingers can touch again.

December 21, 2007. dating, love. 2 comments.

night night

RL is in the next room.
As I type this.
The very next room
she is with D.
I can barely hear muffled conversation.

I press my ear against the door

We are at D’s place.
RL found us here
Thankfully not caught yet.
Or do I want to get caught.

Caught with D’s thigh between mine
pressed up against the wall
biting his lip
as I always do.

RL opens the door

“night night” she says.

With a wave she closes the door behind her.
We are safe
safe for another night.

D comes in now.


I am lying on my floor in superman boy shorts,
smoking a stale benson
as Seb flicks his tongue across my nipple.

“your skin is dark” he says

“dark as night?” I ask.

“dark as night.” he replies with a sharp suck and a teasing smile.

November 1, 2007. C'est Moi, dating, love, men, sex, Uncategorized. Leave a comment.

truth be told

I find it hard to lie
or at least i used too
Yet false words tumble out of my mouth
with such convincing ease.
I shock myself sometimes
at what I find myself saying
at any given moment.
What is it I lie about?
About the man lying right next to me.

D is back.
I see him for quick lunches
and illicit sex.
I lie to Seb, tell him there is no one but he for my bed.
As D dips lazily underneath the covers
between legs.

October 14, 2007. C'est Moi, dating, sex. 2 comments.


“It’s girls like you that make us normal girls look bad.”
Seated under a tree on darkened earth I dug my heels in to the dirt of Trinity Bellwood’s Park. To my right a family of eight eating apples, cherries and poppy seeds. To my left a very angry girl friend.
“I am perfectly normal Yoli.” I had no idea what she was talking about as I watched her pull blades of grass from their roots.
“Normal? Define normal.”
I shrugged and turned my attention back to the happy family. I let their laughter and cherry red lips  wash out Yoli’s complaints.
She was always complaining about something. A dress she wanted but couldn’t afford. A man she wanted but was not thin enough to attract. A love she needed and a void she couldn’t fill.  But mostly Yoli liked to talk about me and all of my short comings.
“Is this about Him?” I asked desperate for raspberry gelato. I could not take her whining for one more moment.
“Him.” She repeated. “Him. I will not let you see Him again.”
Bubbles of laughter escaped my lips before I could bite them back.  She would not let me see Him again.  Surely this was a silly joke.
“I am not joking.”
“And I have got Tello on my side.”
“She is a bitch too.”
bitches. bitches the both of them.
“You will never learn, what else is there for us to do.”
“Do nothing. I have never asked for your help.”
“He is bad for you, the sooner you realize this the better.”
“I want raspberry gelato.”

September 7, 2007. dating. Leave a comment.

my lipgloss is poppin

“I am not that kind of girl.” I whispered brushing my lips against his cheek.  I leaned in so close I could practically taste the mint gum he always loved to chew. Picking my rumpled vintage velvet purse off of the counter I dug about for my lip gloss a standard avoidance maneuver D could clearly read.  We knew each other well enough.
“And what kind of girl that?” He would ask, snapping his gum.
A sign of nervousness that I recognized clearly. I let the silence grow, I wanted him to feel more than the pricks and bites that tickled up and down his arms when I grabbed his fingers.  I wanted more than the standard lust/love reaction.
“The kind of girl that kisses a Boy-Face in public.” I shifted in my seat letting my knee brush his.
“Don’t kiss me then. I won’t mind.”

September 6, 2007. dating, love, memory. 1 comment.

always and forever

“I would like to think that you heart is mine.” He whispered.
Perhaps it was the alcohol messing with my brain
or the drugs skipping through my viens,
surely I wasn’t hearing him correctly.
“What?” I shouted, alarmed at the sound of my voice. Strained and hoarse.
“I would like to think that your heart belongs to be.” He repeated twice this time to be clear.
“Surely you must be joking.” I pushed Him aside and stepped over the kissing couple that gropped about on the floor underneath us. Surley He was joking.
I did not need this now. Not ever. Not again.
Pulling me away from the crowd, the white noise of music and careless chit chat fell away as we headed outside now.
“I want you back.I need you back.”
“I’m seeing someone. You know that.”
“I need you. I need you.”
“That’s always been the problem hasn’t it. You need me, I need you.”
“You admit it then.That you miss me.”
“Ofcourse I miss you. But I am more than fine with out you.”
“Do you love him? Seb?”
“I do.”
“Do you love me?”
I sat in silence afraid of my heart’s answer.
“I do. I will not lie, I do. I always will and I understand that I always will.”

Morning broke.
I lay in bed as Seb stirred in his sleep.
I wanted to wake him
make love to him,
make the fuzzy ache that sat in my chest go away forever.
I let him sleep,
watching his chest rise and fall.
I let him sleep,
thankful that morning had come.

September 6, 2007. dating, love. Leave a comment.


Sometimes I wish that I can be a few pounds thinner.
Sometimes I wish that I had prettier features.
Perhaps my eyes a little larger, my nose a little smaller.

Sometimes I wish that I had more motivation to show people that I am not a complete asshole.
That I can be quite nice.
and I am apologetic when I am moody.

Sometimes when D walks in to the room I feel a little sick.
Like the wind has been sucked out of my lungs and nothing but ash fills its place.
He whispers hurtful things, as he usually does.
Hell hath no fury like a young man scorned.

But I am touched by Seb for 12 seconds and I am alive again.
Pulse beats.
Nerves fire.
and all things sad or forgotten lay forgotten and expired.

August 27, 2007. dating, love, men. Leave a comment.

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