He’s seen them
Once
Twice
Or maybe more

He saw how it requires one to love each the two of them
He saw how it breaks him when he saw them get together
He saw himself in the mirror
And how he wishes that they could love him too

Then comes one day
A drench summer afternoon
Under the seeping umbrella
They finally saw him

They finally talked
Not what he hoped they talked about
But they talked about the possibilities
They talked about the needs
They talked about how convenient it’d be
for them

And yes
Obviously
It’s true
He accepts them
They accept him
Right, that easily

But at what cost?

That’s right
At the cost of his feelings

And how the warmth of their body clings to him each night
How the coldness hits the side of the bed once they leave
How the happiness comes every time they go on dates
How the loneliness never leaves even when they’re next to each other
How is it possible, though?

That’s probably the question he asks everyday
How could they do this to him?
Is he not enough?
Is he that replaceable?
…
Then comes one night
They sat under the moonlight
And this time,
He finally says the truth

The truth that he’s hurting
The truth that he’s burning
The truth that he’s suffering
The truth that he never wants to be just a spare
The truth that he wants them
He wants them to be his
He wants himself to be theirs
And as complicated as it’d be
They can’t.
They simply can’t

For what once I finally thought would be an addition ended in an addiction.
The eyes that glow when we walk into the room,
The eyes that wander from across the room
But no words spoken.

And not because the blood isn't there
The desire of the affairs, the heat of the bodies..
But no words spoken.

The eyes still wander, the passion still lays, the hope for more and
The heartbreak to know it won't
But no words spoken.

You walk five steps ahead and take a right
Never closer without a sign
As though we didn’t say I love you and I love you
Over the phone
Last night

Your eyes carelessly scan my body and find
Nothing worth more than a keek
As though you didn’t set your sights
On my submissive figure
Last week

You treat me like a child when we dine
I feel small and without power
As though I didn’t call you Daddy
When we were alone
Last hour

You take a picture of me and my date
Pretending
As though you had never felt the softness
Inside me
I am yours and you are mine

I can write you a letter
You can read it before you sleep
I can knit you a toy
Only one which you can keep
My gifts to you
The only trace of me in your world

A strand of my auburn hair touches
Your floor
Your face
Your bed
Your beard
My gifts to you
The only trace of me in your world

in the space between
our sound and silence,
there exist two of me
and one of them
is kissing you.

31/12/2022

It’s the last day of the year, and I’ve had one extra depressive episode
because a 21 year old noped out, apparently I’m demiromantic
and have never had a crush
need a strong connection, when it’s there – it’s nothing
to reckon with, had I known
I’d have put more space between us, taken it slower
rather than convincing myself I have control, as it slips

I’m leaving another lover, wretched with stench
I look at their face in old pictures, becoming
afraid at their void expression, beard
they refuse to trim for me
so I daydream and I know
like, I know now, with therapy that

there is no magical himbo to save me,
no delusions about that, no boo, no more
but I also know I deserve some ******* comfort
after the hell, oh the hell
I can’t broach, if I **** it will burst
like a yolk, I’ll be dead by morning, oh and

he’s so beautiful
his eyes on me, his cautious fingers, fear and shudders
makes me feel like my best was not just good enough
my best was fascinating.
I want to tell him about my songs, mixing in studio 1
I wanna duet, and melt,
I want him on his knees at random words, I want
that worship, wanna feel
his piercing on my
everything,
want to give that worship
not just in a word document,
so I daydream, I get to.
I ******* get to if I need it, daydream about
whichever thing will never happen if I need it.

I will not be shamed for surviving
I will not be blinded to an oasis for the chance
it’s a mirage, I need to
get from place to place, boo
What shall I do as I heal? Drink? Drugs? ******* cigarettes?
did you know the internet says I’ll die at 67?
Little more than half now
my life is not shortened by zoning out -
If I want a muse I will have a ******* muse, and he can think
I’m crazy along with the rest of them,
****
if
I
care,  
I want him to come here.
                                    I want to ask him questions, reasonable questions
because I know I would:
                                                          ­             is this an impulsive decision?
have you broken up?
                                                                ­                               how long ago?
are you in therapy?
                                            I am **** demisexual,
                                                  even in my mind,
                                              especially in my mind
Do       you      want      me      or      do       you       want      polyamory?
Because I can be anyone, and I have already been
                                                         an experiment for some guy, ‘fore he  
                                                            gets­ a bi curious, monogamous girl
Because we can grow alongside one another, but not fix
each other
because you need to process
because if you’re with her, she wouldn’t have a reason other than “my boyfriend really wants to” and that is the worst reason for polyamory, and I am not nor have ever been in the business of hurting people with intent (excluding  grade school, ((I’m
sorry, Martina – double sorry you died from
leukemia,) excluding when you c o n s e n t )),  
I’d like you to answer all of those, then
maybe I get to hold you.

That’s my daydream. Holding you. Watching films, you commenting on them the way I’ve done and annoyed all of my lovers.

how your neck would smell

                                      how your hair and head would feel in my hands

how you’d shiver and breathe shallow, and how easily
I could make it calm.  

and yeah, subspacing you and using your body, I am not entirely ace.