He isn’t just any boy to me.
He’s the one who popped my cherry.
The first boy to read my mind.
The first boy to see me exposed, emotionally and physically.
He treated my body like a blank canvas, making me his art.
He came to get me in the middle of the night and held me.
He melted into me,
he became my best friend,
my life support.
And one day it was gone.
Yes I knew it would go like this,
yes I signed up for this the moment I took his number.
I knew what I was doing and I didn’t care, because I thought I was invincible,
but I’m not.
I’m vulnerable and hurt,
but don’t have the right to be.
So all I can really do is smile and laugh and pretend it doesn’t hurt to not see the hunger in his eyes when he looks at me anymore.
To act like everything is okay and silently pray it’s not over.
I’ll swallow the lump in my throat when I see him,
I’ll save the tears for the dark.