HOME | DD

Description
Remember when we held our bodies close, to feel the touch of raw skin?  Remember when we looked deep in the eyes of one another and saw the magic of our world together?  Remember when we shared that first kiss?  The gentle, insecurity of our first intimate moment, so tenderly passionate, each memory of it rips at my heart.  I thought in that moment, I meant something to you.  I thought in that moment we would spend worlds together.

I left you that night praying everything would turn out right.  The look in your eyes, as I walked out the door, was trying to tell me otherwise.  But I held on to the memory of our kiss.  Each thought of it brought excitement and carelessness.  My first interaction of a lover’s passion.

Yet, that final look I saw in your eyes was to dictate the history of our time.  You dropped me, without courtesy or respect.  You dropped me like flicking a hat.  But despite it all, I still cared for you in an undamaged environment.  I wanted you back!  I was pissed, and still, I couldn’t stop thinking of your face, your charm, you soft, puppy eyes, and your toned, tanned body.  Every night I dreamed of you; every day your name, or face crossed my memory at least once; then the want of you to be in my arms turned to a need for revengeful satisfaction.

My chance came, and I jumped on it like lightning.  It was my chance to make you jealous, my chance to scratch at your heart.  I could tell it got at you, but I couldn’t go through with it.  For in the process of hurting you, I was lying to myself, and that wouldn’t due.

So I let time lapse, and I tried to forget.  There were times when I thought I was to be successful, but each time something new reminded me of you.  You ate at my heart, so much so I thought I could never move past you.  And for a while I couldn’t.  I tried, and I pretended, but in the end, only you remained in my head.

Then came the day where I had to face you again.  I am strong, and I forced myself to put you away.  I had to watch the way you played, both with my heart and with your new girlfriend there wrapped in your arms.  I surprised myself by not making a sound, by not allowing you the satisfaction of response.  I was able to get passed you into another dimension, a different world undamaged by your hand.

On the way back to reality the truth of the matter comes out.  You, with your fast hands and quick heart weren’t impressed by my unwillingness for sex.  You took it slow, and then shocked my system with a heated rush to move faster by the minute.  I hurt your dignity when I told you to slow down, with no funny business.  Now to regain your pride you have to make your reputation superior.

In a different world I had fun.  I danced the floor of the discos making the eyes of young men move across my body.  I let them kiss me, as I kissed them back.  I was caught in the moment unable to look back.  I needed fun and excitement, and everything here was provided.  So I kissed a few young men, and shocked quite a few people by such a risqué manner, and it all got back to you.

You’re an egotistical jerk, and you had to your say in some how.  So you call me a slut, or more specifically tell everyone I’m turning into a slut.  Well, dear, just to let you know, for sexual connotations, you are a man whore.  How do you ever manage to expect people to believe you care for all those girls you date?  I bet you can’t even remember half their names.  The majority of them don’t even live close to you, and you don’t drive, so it’s very convenient for you to have other girlfriends on the side, right?  You don’t have to worry my dear; I’ll leave your worthless new girlfriend to figure it out for herself, seeing as you “aren’t talking about your ex’s.”

You tell your friends that I am a slut because I can dance, and kiss, and have fun, while you just lay down a fort in your room, drooling all over a girlfriend who is using you.  A slut I am to you, because you didn’t get your tongue down my throat, the way some strangers did.  Because you couldn’t dance like that with me, holding my ass in your hands, working up a sweat on the dance floor.  You care so much for your reputation that you feel you have to put your ex down to make you more superior.  You are a jackass, dear, and your reputation means nothing to me.

Description
Remember when we held our bodies close, to feel the touch of raw skin?  Remember when we looked deep in the eyes of one another and saw the magic of our world together?  Remember when we shared that first kiss?  The gentle, insecurity of our first intimate moment, so tenderly passionate, each memory of it rips at my heart.  I thought in that moment, I meant something to you.  I thought in that moment we would spend worlds together.

I left you that night praying everything would turn out right.  The look in your eyes, as I walked out the door, was trying to tell me otherwise.  But I held on to the memory of our kiss.  Each thought of it brought excitement and carelessness.  My first interaction of a lover’s passion.

Yet, that final look I saw in your eyes was to dictate the history of our time.  You dropped me, without courtesy or respect.  You dropped me like flicking a hat.  But despite it all, I still cared for you in an undamaged environment.  I wanted you back!  I was pissed, and still, I couldn’t stop thinking of your face, your charm, you soft, puppy eyes, and your toned, tanned body.  Every night I dreamed of you; every day your name, or face crossed my memory at least once; then the want of you to be in my arms turned to a need for revengeful satisfaction.

My chance came, and I jumped on it like lightning.  It was my chance to make you jealous, my chance to scratch at your heart.  I could tell it got at you, but I couldn’t go through with it.  For in the process of hurting you, I was lying to myself, and that wouldn’t due.

So I let time lapse, and I tried to forget.  There were times when I thought I was to be successful, but each time something new reminded me of you.  You ate at my heart, so much so I thought I could never move past you.  And for a while I couldn’t.  I tried, and I pretended, but in the end, only you remained in my head.

Then came the day where I had to face you again.  I am strong, and I forced myself to put you away.  I had to watch the way you played, both with my heart and with your new girlfriend there wrapped in your arms.  I surprised myself by not making a sound, by not allowing you the satisfaction of response.  I was able to get passed you into another dimension, a different world undamaged by your hand.

On the way back to reality the truth of the matter comes out.  You, with your fast hands and quick heart weren’t impressed by my unwillingness for sex.  You took it slow, and then shocked my system with a heated rush to move faster by the minute.  I hurt your dignity when I told you to slow down, with no funny business.  Now to regain your pride you have to make your reputation superior.

In a different world I had fun.  I danced the floor of the discos making the eyes of young men move across my body.  I let them kiss me, as I kissed them back.  I was caught in the moment unable to look back.  I needed fun and excitement, and everything here was provided.  So I kissed a few young men, and shocked quite a few people by such a risqué manner, and it all got back to you.

You’re an egotistical jerk, and you had to your say in some how.  So you call me a slut, or more specifically tell everyone I’m turning into a slut.  Well, dear, just to let you know, for sexual connotations, you are a man whore.  How do you ever manage to expect people to believe you care for all those girls you date?  I bet you can’t even remember half their names.  The majority of them don’t even live close to you, and you don’t drive, so it’s very convenient for you to have other girlfriends on the side, right?  You don’t have to worry my dear; I’ll leave your worthless new girlfriend to figure it out for herself, seeing as you “aren’t talking about your ex’s.”

You tell your friends that I am a slut because I can dance, and kiss, and have fun, while you just lay down a fort in your room, drooling all over a girlfriend who is using you.  A slut I am to you, because you didn’t get your tongue down my throat, the way some strangers did.  Because you couldn’t dance like that with me, holding my ass in your hands, working up a sweat on the dance floor.  You care so much for your reputation that you feel you have to put your ex down to make you more superior.  You are a jackass, dear, and your reputation means nothing to me.