It’s been more than a week since you’ve asked for me
Longer still since you’ve held me
It’s feels like a breakup
Though I was never your woman
Just a convenient bed mate
Someone, I assumed, you saw as a six out of ten
Not an eight and definitely not an eleven
I’m average at best
Not pretty enough to make you think twice about not responding to my texts
It’s a never ending cycle with men
Me wishing for more
And getting treated like a whore
Doesn’t matter how good I can suck dick
If you aren’t into me
Then there’s no chance of loving me
Even if I can make you wet your pants
Without touching you
I’m cursed with great moves
And slick hips
A small mouth and curious eyes
Waiting for you to ask me a thoughtful question
Waiting for you to say that my mood wasn’t an issue
That you will care for me even when I need a tissue
Or three
My womanly emotions getting in the way of your happy ending
I wish you could have handled that
Wish you could have handled me being real
Because I’m sick of fake men
Aged out youth
Immature even when society calls you a man
You got a few years on me
And yet….and yet….
I’m still just a hen
in your game of chicken
You didn’t even think twice on if I was worth it
Just fucked me as long as you could take me from the back
And the minute I turned around to ask you if you loved me
You acted like I was crazy
For thinking that sharing my body was something amazing
That loving you was on my mind
Making you think I was careless with my feelings
Like opening my legs for you was just expected
Because I’m a six out of ten
And girls like me,
No matter how real
No matter how funny
Can’t be more than the mattress that cushions their back
Or at least that’s how I took it
When you didn’t call me back.
Poetry on Paper 