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A Hundred -
May 16th 2021, 10:18 PM
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Note: depictions of sexuality below
Number thirty-eight
Our lips meet for the first time
Soft and tender kisses
As you gently lay me down on the sheets.
You slowly make your way down
As my back arches
And I cling to the fabric for purchase.
Pure bliss
And I cry out.
Number sixty-three
Seeking, searching, fumbling
Trying to remove my clothes
As frantically as you can while kissing
Eager to get inside
Once we are free from our cloth prisons
You push me to my knees,
And I know what you want.
I happily oblige.
Number eighty-four
I do not know your name,
And I like it that way.
Seduce me in the dark.
Let your hands wander,
Rip this dress from my body.
I lay spread before you,
Ready for consumption.
I know you want me.
I’ll call you, they all say,
Once they’ve had their fill,
And I watch them walk out the door.
I hope. Oh, how I hope, every time.
But hours turn to days turn to weeks,
And there is only silence.
I feel the same sinking feeling,
The one that says I am not good enough.
Not good enough for a call back.
Not good enough for a repeat performance.
Not good enough for anything except
Letting some horny guy relieve himself, That One Time.
I try not to let it hurt,
I try to hold the tears back,
But it burns,
And they fall down my cheeks anyway.
Over a hundred, now,
And I wonder
How many even remember my name.
When will I find the one
Who wants to keep me?
When will I be enough?
When will I finally get that call?
The silence to my query is deafening.
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