DAY OF THIS
I can not predict these things I say to myself.they are beyond anything I can control.truth be told, what I choose to control.for they are stronger than anything I have ever knownand it is sometimes too much to deny the sweet feelings..the ones that suddenly release.deephard..so slow.savoring every moment of reflection as though it was the first timethe first timedo you want to know what he said to me just after he entered me?.the shy girl that I was.making the hesitant decision to give it all away that night..FUCK I said, I want in on the rest of the secretI Want to know what the fuck it is all about.and so with these thoughts.I didnt even choose him properly..he said to me.right after it all happenedafter I told him he was my first one.. you are very pretty, but you should really go to the gym..my 54, 125lbs frame.got sick to my stomach.and this is what I will always remember as the day I gave myself away.I have regrets, I cant change these things.they linger on as a bad odorseemingly gone after the years of wearbut still fresh in the memory of a girl of only 17so I think about it sometimes.and I fantasize.I think about the parallel universethe other girlmethere in the back of the bus in high schooland I can picture himthe all American boy..we talkabout stupid thingslistening to that Prince song..Purple Rain, oh the Little Red Corvettehit play on the boom box one more time I say.for countless of hours from the way back from a football gamein the back of the busmaking outyour awkward hands on my thighs.your lipsexploring my neckall the while.the guiltI feel ..the thoughts of the beating I will get when I get home.mean shit to mebecause this is heaventhis is what I want, need,..the back of your neck..feels soft against my hand.and your scentis something that makes me wetI dont even know what that is at this pointbut I knowsomehowI dont want it to stop..these are the memories I choose to remember.they sometimes get selective and they melt into each otherbecausesometimesthe truthhaunts us too muchand how else are we suppose to go on.I Can no longer be 17I can no longer go back to high school and kiss you deeply.with lacing fingers and embracing limbsonly holding tight to the mystery of that which made me feel good..that made me wet and that would eventually make you a man..for History is a bitch sometimesand sometimeswe have to live with that bitch..and so I can never tell when the flood of emotions will overcome me.I can only find the lost part of me in the sometimes stare of strangersthe All American boys that entertain my hungry heart
I can not predict these things I say to myself.they are beyond anything I can control.truth be told, what I choose to control.for they are stronger than anything I have ever knownand it is sometimes too much to deny the sweet feelings..the ones that suddenly release.deephard..so slow.savoring every moment of reflection as though it was the first timethe first timedo you want to know what he said to me just after he entered me?.the shy girl that I was.making the hesitant decision to give it all away that night..FUCK I said, I want in on the rest of the secretI Want to know what the fuck it is all about.and so with these thoughts.I didnt even choose him properly..he said to me.right after it all happenedafter I told him he was my first one.. you are very pretty, but you should really go to the gym..my 54, 125lbs frame.got sick to my stomach.and this is what I will always remember as the day I gave myself away.I have regrets, I cant change these things.they linger on as a bad odorseemingly gone after the years of wearbut still fresh in the memory of a girl of only 17so I think about it sometimes.and I fantasize.I think about the parallel universethe other girlmethere in the back of the bus in high schooland I can picture himthe all American boy..we talkabout stupid thingslistening to that Prince song..Purple Rain, oh the Little Red Corvettehit play on the boom box one more time I say.for countless of hours from the way back from a football gamein the back of the busmaking outyour awkward hands on my thighs.your lipsexploring my neckall the while.the guiltI feel ..the thoughts of the beating I will get when I get home.mean shit to mebecause this is heaventhis is what I want, need,..the back of your neck..feels soft against my hand.and your scentis something that makes me wetI dont even know what that is at this pointbut I knowsomehowI dont want it to stop..these are the memories I choose to remember.they sometimes get selective and they melt into each otherbecausesometimesthe truthhaunts us too muchand how else are we suppose to go on.I Can no longer be 17I can no longer go back to high school and kiss you deeply.with lacing fingers and embracing limbsonly holding tight to the mystery of that which made me feel good..that made me wet and that would eventually make you a man..for History is a bitch sometimesand sometimeswe have to live with that bitch..and so I can never tell when the flood of emotions will overcome me.I can only find the lost part of me in the sometimes stare of strangersthe All American boys that entertain my hungry heart
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
7deuce:
thearcanecircle:
Wow. You know sometimes we can "go back to the bus" if only for a little while. In our dreams. Though after those times is occasionally hurts to wake up. But such is life i soppose.