Chronological Gaps / The Stories We Tell / Let’s Pretend I’m A Liar, And You Can Sleep At Night

I convinced you
I had magical powers
because I could make the lights on my street go out
by concentrating at them.
You pinned me
against my front door
and kissed me
until I couldn’t breathe.

I would stare
at the earring in your left ear,
a dangling cross.
I would watch it shine in the light,
and I would turn
and bury my face
against the stubble of your throat.

I’d put my tongue to your neck
and hum, delirious,
while you play-fucked me on your couch.

I let a stranger
finger me at 38,000 feet
while you were
two rows over,
six rows back,
still recovering from food poisoning.

I fucked you
in your parents’ bathroom
while your friends played video games
in the next room.
I put mint condoms on you
and made you come
until you couldn’t walk.

I kissed you,
when I shouldn’t have.
I wonder about what happened to you
all the time.
I know your best friend left
not long after,
and you felt alone.

I punched you once.
I should’ve hit you harder.
A lot harder.

I called you up,
asked you to come over,
got you hard,
and scared the shit out of you
while I trashed my apartment
and raved like a maniac,
then asked you to leave
and never come back.

I would put my hand between my legs
while you talked to me.
I crossed the country for you.
You wanted to leave the light on.
I loved your hair.
You were beautiful in the moonlight.
I don’t know if I ever told you.
You howled for me, and introduced me to your friends,
and no one thought of us as strange.

I made myself come
while you held me down
and told me I was naughty.
I thought about your friends the whole time,
in the bed next to us.
I hoped they’d hear us,
and join in.
I cheated on you,
and it was one of the best kisses I’ve ever had.
We were never the same.
You were needy and jealous.
I know I was wrong.
I hope you’re all right.

I gave you my phone number when you asked for it,
and you called me.
You put your hand around my throat
and watched me falter.
I stumbled back to the real world,
and slept in another man’s bed.
Everyone in that hotel could hear me.
I spent the next week
wishing I’d made you leave marks,
wishing I’d left marks on you.

I read a message you left someplace you weren’t sure I’d read it.
But then it was a whirlwind of pain and pleasure,
horror and red.
I played so rough
you used your safeword.
I didn’t.
You left messages
carved into my back.

I let you tie me down
and fuck me for hours.
We wasted a lot of time not realizing
I should’ve been letting you hit me
instead of fuck me.

As for you, you are the best.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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