~ a poem ~

I still remember a lot of things
about that boy.
His ass.
My god his ass.
He was in the best shape,
and he had an ass
I wanted to bite.
But he wasn’t into that, though.

The sex,
when we had it,
was amazing.
We fucked on the floor,
on his counter,
on his couch,
and, eventually,
in his bed.
He pushed me,
and I loved it.
I miss that dick.
Some of the best I’ve ever had.
I can admit that,
as much as I don’t want to.

Occasionally
I think about him
when I masturbate.
He never got
to fuck my ass.
A pity.
But,
in my fantasies,
he has many times.

He wore this
devilish smile.
He knew
too well
how easy it is
for him
to charm women.
Every once in a while
I still marvel
that we were
anything.

I count him as an ex,
but I doubt he ever
thinks
about me.

His life took a turn
after we parted.
I hope he is doing better
now.
I hope he is happy.
I hope he has someone
to help him be happy.

And, if he reads this,
I hope he reaches out
and says hi.

Categorised as: Poem | Writing

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