i thought that i
could be brave enough
to make love to you
with
no
strings attached
but your arms around me felt like strings
your fingers, like strings
when you used them to massage my neck
and caress my back
and my legs
felt like strings
when i
held them around your neck
& squeezed and scratched your back
leaving marks that looked like strings
i thought
we could be happy together
laughing before, during, and after
wrapped up in damp sheets
and avoiding each other’s eyes so that we can pretend that it wasn’t that deep
all that touching and holding and moaning
we just did
because we are f’cking without strings
attached
but it felt like a string
pulling and luring me back to you
tying your hands above your head
torturing you with my eyes
because the strings would not allow me to look any other way
or place
as I straddled you and rode you to perfection
but it’s cool because
i never promised to love you
and you never promised to love me back
and i don’t need you to love me
i just want you to want me. . .back
but these strings in my heart
won’t let me
my pride
won’t let me
hold on to false strings
yet somehow i got attached
© R. Boylorn, 2012
This poetic response offers an extension of Crunktastic’s Birthday Sex post on March 1, 2012.
love it
there are always strings attached because sex is an exchange (especially if DNA is involved)…an imprint
what matters is you keeping your strings short, even, and straight, verses long, irregular and knotted
fuck like there’s no tomorrow.
That was perfectly awesome! It so explains how I’m feeling right now
Book marking this. Just got into a situation and am fairly certain this lovely piece is going to come in handy in the future. Nice work.