Sexcapades


His need for me,
laced with lustful fantasies,
lured me heavily between the sheets.

He was never fully invested in anything beyond my body.
I was his puppet—
controlled by the strings of false promises that he cared.

Deep down,
I knew he wasn’t right for me.
But I continued to allow him to penetrate.

Even when I tried to run,
to seek shelter,
to escape his mischief,
He would always find me—
reassuring me of his need for me.

I was his rebound.
He used my love and loyalty as his muse
to paint a masterpiece of deceit across my heart—
only to pass the time until the woman he truly wanted came along.

No wonder I always felt like a secret—
a castaway placed on a shelf,
only taken down when his need to be pleased beckoned.

What I viewed as love,
he saw as lust.
Both were distorted visions.

Sex has a way of doing that—
distorting the truth.

Uncommitted sex
masked my ability to see clearly—
The truth is that he never loved me.
He loved what I gave him.

Desired below the waist,
while yearning to be loved for what’s above the neck.

How can I blame him, though?
He was only reaping what I sowed—
insecurity.

-Vmack

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *