College Life · Personal

“Tattooed Love Boys.”

A poem.

“You were the first to talk to me.

You were the first to add me on Facebook.

I knew you added me because you wanted something from me.

You messaged me first.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Casual opening line.

We send messages throughout the day.

You send subtle hints towards me.

“Going to the gym is a good work out, but I know a better way of losing fat.”

You think I’m naive.

You think I don’t know what you want from me.

You message me everyday until I tell you to come over.

You come over at 8 a.m.

You sneak in my room so you don’t wake up my roommates.

I play indie music so they don’t hear any noises.

You change the music to rap music.

“I’m from Flint. I grew up with this music.”

I liked the indie music better.

You take off your shirt. I see all the tattoos you hide under your work uniform.

“Fuck,” I think to myself. I love tattoos.

You get underneath my purple comforter. My heart beat increases. My anxiety levels shoot through the roof.

I lay next to you. Your arm is around me. I haven’t been this close to a man since “he who shall not be named” left.

My heart beat increases.

“How are you feeling?”
“Nervous.”

You lean in and kiss me. Tattoo Love Boy kisses me. It’s weird kissing a new boy.

Your hands slide down my body. I feel so in lust.

Things get hotter. Things get sweaty. Things happen so fast.

You’re done. I have to get to class at 11. Is there a quiz today?

You leave. We don’t talk on Facebook anymore. We only talk at work.

But you won’t come over anymore. You got what you wanted.

Tattooed Love Boys.”

 

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