Whore

Fuck it.
It is all about sex.
Who can give it best. Who wants it the most. Who ravages who.
But in the end the one thing that hits home every time is who is the one you call “home”? And usually that’s the one you fucked over and made feel small and wrong and insignificant. Until one day you realize that all the tongues between your thighs, all the fingers that fuck your pussy, all the anal fucking that makes you cum and all the sexual crazy that ignites your clit for a single solitary moment, means nothing when you’re heart is looking for recognition and a place to be you.
But ya, go with the sex.
Fuck Meesh like you used to.
Let her fuck you like you want to be fucked.
With lust, with craze, with meaningless drive and empty passion
Moan and tell her to suck your pussy and fuck you and “ya baby ya that’s it”
Make me feel small and weak and powerless because I don’t ‘pay you enough attention’ even though you have had every second of my waking mind, my heart, my body, universe and my sexual being and desire since the first day we met.
But ya, go with the sex.
Fuck her and let her fuck you.
Do it over and over and over again till you exhaust your need and I will wash the scent and feel of you from my skin, from my mouth, my heart and my soul as I learn this lesson…this hateful lesbian lesson that I never wanted to know, that I never wanted to understand. That you know nothing of what it is to love. Really love and create that haven you so desperately want because that haven isn’t a selfish, self absorbed place. It isn’t a place where only one dictates and decides what will be for all.
You have seen it… in me.
You have recognized it and you desperately want what I give you because I am home. I am love. I am that place you can lay your heart down in and feel safe, but you choose sex. So fuck it.
You chose her moments after you broke my heart completely and made feel:
Displaced
Alone
Abandoned
And told me you needed to take things slow. Baby steps.
That we wanted to make things different, create a healthier relationship, right?

Bullshit…

Because the next day you kissed her lips, touched her body, let her wanting of you wet your cunt and for a moment you forgot about that haven. You forgot about me. Baby steps was a distant blurry unimportant echo of conversation to you while it reverberated around my mind all night and day. Hurting my heart, screaming that I had failed yet again in loving you. Those words and their effect on me really meant nothing to you. You were focused on you because your needs weren’t being met, because you were lonely.
Because you wanted to feel wanted.
Because you wanted to get fucked.
So you let her touch you in a way you had no right to do, with someone who you knew was my greatest insecurity, my Nemesis, my arch rival and sexual enemy. You went to her, followed her sober and willingly into her bedroom, wanting and desirous of her touch because you were lonely and I wasn’t paying you enough fucking attention.
And then you came to me drunk. Shameless and unrepentant and actually insinuated and challenged me as though somehow it were my fault that you ever found yourself there, with your tongue in her mouth, your hands on her body, her hands on yours…And told me you had no guilt. No shame. And you never once said you were sorry. And I think that’s what hurt the most.

Your undeniable virtuous assertion that you had done nothing wrong.
Even though you must have known how much this would hurt me…

So, you challenged me to make love to you. And I did. I made love to you. And tried to fight for you but all the while I felt like you wanted me to be her. To fuck you like she would have if you had stayed with her. It wasn’t me you wanted really… Was it because you were frustrated from her arousal of your body and needed release? You spoke to me in a way that made me feel like I had to ravage you, make love to you the way she would have because she is the sex you crave. Has always been the sex you want…

But I am not her.
I am not the pussy palace or a John Holmes dildo.
I am not Meesh, the sexual deviant.
I am Trish, I am home.
I am the haven and the place you rest your heart.
Why you had to go there with her of all people after all your talk of loyalty and never cheating on your partner. Why did you choose now, when we are in such a fragile place? And why did you let it be her, knowing how deeply that would scar me…Or did you even think? Even care? Was it all just selfish need and want and sex? Great.
And now I am left with… what?
What am I left with?

You will never understand that it doesn’t matter that you left her, that you decided it was wrong because it wasn’t the life you wanted anymore. Or that…secondarily…that she wasn’t me…(ya thx for that). What matters is that you chose, after 3 1/2 years to be sexually abandoned, no matter for how short a time, with the woman who you knew could possibly destroy us. Or maybe you had no thought past your cunt?

Imagine this though…

What if I had ‘slipped’ like that with Mike?
If I had kissed his mouth with the same wanting
If I had let him touch me in that old familiar way?
How would that make you feel?
Really really feel in your gut?

You think my past indiscretions, which were ridiculously innocent in comparison. A kiss…outside of a bedroom…with no heavy petting and arousal…are equal to the significance of fucking with Meesh like that? Knowing who she is to me? How that could destroy me?

So ya.
Fuck it.

And then, to really add ultimate insult to injury, after telling me that you nearly had sex with her, you immediately invalidated all my feelings of hurt, pain or jealousy or any normal reaction any partner would have upon hearing such news by telling me you are allowed this discretion, since I have had so many. And then demand that I come to you. Make love to you. Prove to you that I want you.
Man.
How fucked is that?
But I did it, didn’t I?
I fucked you, I sucked your pussy and I tried to make you cum.
Once again I tried to make myself worthy enough to be with you.
To keep you interested.
How fucked is that?

And all I have ever wanted to do was love you.
And all I have ever wanted was for you to love me back.
Yet you make me a whore.
To prove that I love you.
And I do it every time.

Fuck it.
I’m learning. The fucking hard way. The most painful way.
But one day, you will see that the very things you love so much about me are gone.

Me.

And the whore you create in the interim, can ultimately belong to anyone.

I hope it brings you some semblance of happy to know that I am so desperately in love with you. It only breaks my spirit, my heart and my dream of us.

I miss the you I thought I used to know.

I love you.
So I will be your whore.
Because the alternative, for me right now, is unbearable.

p.s. you’re right. its not a poem. it is me expressing my pain. and yes I have rage.

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