"Did you cum?"
No.
Let me go home.
I want to go to bed.
Out of his backseat, I emerge,
unsatisfied as usual.
But my needs don't matter.
Sexually and emotionally.
I sneak back into my room.
To bed I go, finally.
Something that brings me pleasure.
One thing these pathetic boys that masquerade as men cannot give me.
"You up?"
Yes.
Out I go.
It brings me little pleasure, but human contact is nice.
The facade of being cared for emotionally
is much better than any orgasm.
Something they cannot give me anyway,
it's cute that they try.
Maybe one day I'll find value in myself.
Maybe one day I'll find someone who values me just as much.
Until then, these brief interactions bring me slight joy.
I've come to terms with the fact that I am just a toy.
YOU ARE READING
A Random Collection of Poems
PoetrySo I have a friend who encouraged me to start writing again, I don't have the attention span to do books anymore so I mostly write poetry. A lot of the time I write in moments of extreme sadness and heartache, so my poems tend to be of my raw emotio...
