I. I have lost count of all the men I slept with, and I didn't even sleep with all of them because they left right after. Like I was a buffet; they came by, used me and then took off not bothering what they left behind. As if I was a car wreck, captivating at first but when you come closer you get sick from all the carnage.
II. I was always good for the taking, a quick booty call after the girl he really liked gave him a pass or a one night stand when the party's over and all the pretty girls are already gone and I'm blackout drunk and feel so terribly alone. I was a submissive heating device, soft lips that wanted to share so much but were quickly reduced to do the sucking, hands wherever they were needed, holes -- so many holes.
III. I was so scared and lost, trying to fill the hole without realizing that salvation wouldn't come in the shape of a penis. or by being held in restless arms after being fucked by yet another guy who didn't see anything but holes in me. So many men have taken from this body, so many hands have traced these lines but none of them were yours.
IV. You -- you make me feel seen.
V. You touch me and it feels like it's the first time ever, I'm suddenly not 8 anymore and your hands don't remind me of my stepfather.
You touch me and it's almost like my neurons are rewiring, finding new ways to understand the act of touching -- and it no longer translates to ache,
not if it's with you.
Es ist schön, dass du schreibst.
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