Found a few old poems I wrote while hammered and promptly forgot about (II)
Last night I imagined myself between your boyfriends legs.
It’s not like I can help it.
It’s not even like I tried.
Would that make it better?
To know there’s nothing I can do?
That I love him, and he could love me,
But fuck it, we’ll never know?
I know he never loved you.
But loving him kills me every day.
He’ll never leave, and I’d never go.
So we’re both fucked either way.















