*Warning: naughty language ahead!

~

I haven’t been excited over a man in a moment.

And I don’t mean the knee-jerk reaction kind of excitement.

The kind that happens when someone handsome walks in the door

Or pays you a compliment.

I’m talking the kind of excitement that sits in your bones quietly

But shakes you, nonetheless.

From your core, outward.

So with him you feel calm,

But without him you feel the slow burn

Of a deep fire.

So when my bones start to burn again

Over a man I can’t have,

I scream,

“Fuck”

Into the night.

Against my pillow.

Wishing it was his chest,

With the soft, dark hair

That I teased him for, but I’d never want him to shave.

And I scream,

“Fuck”

Again

When he texts me songs to listen to

And the lyrics say

He wants me

Even though his locked down mouth

Says differently.

Because we’re just friends,

As far as his partner is concerned.

And I’ve never wanted to be that woman

But this time I do.

Oh, what it is to understand a judged narrative.

Oh, what it is

To be on the other side of the script.

Oh, what it is

To scream,

“Fuck.”

~