Kiwi

photo credits: Molly Bell

I miss him already.

I’m sitting on his sofa kissing him,

And I miss him already.

I know nothing lasts forever.

I know this will all have to end eventually.

But I can’t help but hope that somehow,

all of this means something to him.

He’s already opened me up in ways I never knew was possible,

and the thought of him leaving after doing so is almost not plausible.

But it’ll happen.

And everyone I’ve come to know and love will leave with him.

I’ll be alone again.

I’m used to it by now.

Though I’d be lying if I told myself that it wouldn’t hurt,

That it wouldn’t fuck me over even more than the dick who abused me.

I miss him already.

And I’m so scared because I can feel myself falling.

No, I’ve already fallen, and I’m in too deep.

This man is everything to me.

He is the air that I breathe, and then one I want to wake up to for the rest of my life.

The way he looks at me in adoration and awe leaves me breathless.

The way he appreciates my body with his comforting hands,

the cold metal of his extravagant rings leaving faint goosebumps on my skin.

And most of all, the way he treats me like I’m God’s personal present to him,

his praises and affirmations rolling off his tongue in his melodic low tenor.

This man will be the death of me.

Or perhaps I’m already dead.

And I mustn’t admit this to anyone, but-

I (think that I might) love him.

Recent Posts