“You were concerned I was into you. I suppose it’s true, I was into you I mean I was naked in your bed for god’s sake, I wouldn’t be there if I wasn’t into you. And yeah I guess I was into you in other ways too into the songs you played and your ludicrous dance moves and the way you actually cared, like a waiter asking if I had enough water or a friend just being a good friend. So sure, I was into you. But I wasn’t into you like stepping into fire hatching dragon eggs and calling shit twin flames ‘cos I’ve been there before and all I got was burnt all I got was hurt ‘cos I ain’t no fucking dragon I’m tender and I’m small and I fall in love too easy but I wasn’t falling in love with you. And I wasn’t into you like drowning when the wetness that’s supposed to be between your legs is in your lungs instead and you don’t know what to do ‘cos it’s just too fucking much so you lie around pretending you know how to float begging the moon to turn the tide and pull you somewhere safe somewhere you can say his name and not feel sick with adoration. Instead, I was into you in a way that didn’t hurt in a way that wasn’t alarming in a way that didn’t make me feel afraid. I was into you like a warm bath like a cinema where the lights have just gone down like a boat on flat water that’s cruising somewhere new. I was into you and there were no scorch marks there was no coughing up my heart. It was calm and unattached and easy, but I guess you couldn’t tell it all apart. And honestly it makes sense you were mistaken. I’m a sensual fucking person and boys often get confused. But you see I just don’t understand why people think that sex should happen in a void, somewhere stripped of intimacy and affection, ‘cos if I’m fucking you it means I deem you worthy of my time and my body and my god damn conversation and I don’t get it. Don’t you want me to stroke your ego? Is any sign of affection taboo outside of your fucking room? Am I crossing all the lines where you keep yourself boxed in, safe from all these needy girls staining your sheets with their feelings? ‘Cos it might’ve been lost in translation but I am not that girl. I’ve got shit to do and I haven’t got the time for distractions I was just craving something along the same lines as you just a night or two with some pleasure in my lonely fucking cunt just a night or two with some arms around me, a little bit of intimacy and intellectual discussion without too many repercussions (which I guess is where we unintentionally went wrong, not my song just something I had to learn the words to, quickly). And I’m sorry if I freaked you out with my poetry it happens a lot and I should’ve learnt by now to stay quiet but I can’t stay quiet ‘cos it’s just what I do what I cannot help but do and anyway for the record the poem wasn’t about you it was about the sex it wasn’t dedicated to you it was dedicated to the bomb ass gift between your legs ‘cos bitch that shit was on fleek and isn’t that what we were here for in the first place? I guess my point is that I’m sorry if my actions weren’t casual enough for you, I must’ve left my shrouds of apathy in the dump with everything else I’m never gonna need, but I just think it’s kinda stupid that the world’s so saturated by toxic high school monogamy that you see it even when it isn’t there. ‘Cos fuck the void. Fuck a society that tells us love is attachment and intimacy is commitment and affection is something to be scared of especially if it’s sincere. Fuck the bad sex, I’ve had too much of it. ‘Cos god forbid a recurring involvement with someone who actually feels some kind of warmth towards you. What is sex without warmth? I’m really fucking warm is that why people never wanna stay around me too long? Is that why I make them so uncomfortable? I wanted to stay around you. There was something going on between us not love just something nice something just the right amount of sweetness on my lips just the right amount of everything. You made me laugh, you made me feel safe, you made me feel pretty. I had fun with you. And in your bedroom I found something I’d been looking for, and I’d been looking for so long I’d almost given up. It was like, with you inside me we suddenly spoke the same language. Like I was suddenly understood. Like this crazy tripped-out lusty romantic bitch was finally, finally understood. And you found something in me I didn’t know was there. That drawn-out delirious moment of manic begging that isn’t just for show. Like, this, this is where I want to be. Kingdom of heaven in my pussy and you gave me the key. Let it stay like this. Let me stay here. But that’s not how the story goes. Before I go though I wanna tell you something. See, I view it like a constellation. Like it’s all this big glowing map in the sky of my life and every person is a star and I spend my whole life looking for those who sparkle in my eyes like stars and I hurl myself into them like the opposite of a black hole and add them to the complex criss-crossed cacophony of my constellation and between me and each star, each soul, there’s a pathway shining and each of these pathways is different some of them friendships and some of them romantic and some of them purely sexual and some of them a great big glorious mix of all three and each pathway shines a different colour and if I could taste them they would have a different flavour and if I could hear them they would have a different sound and it makes me sad that you don’t wanna travel along our pathway anymore when it’s still up here, shining. ‘Cos I thought matter can’t be made, can’t be created out of nowhere, but you propositioned an opposition to this idea so I guess my question is what did we make? Did it matter?”
— @leatherbounddiaries ‘THE SATURATION OF HIGH SCHOOL MONOGAMY’
