Note to Fuckboy

This is not heartbreak
This is injustice
This is anger and sadness
over failed hopes and expectations
This is me listening to slow songs
about how things should have been
This is me understanding
that you don’t need to be “in love” with someone
in order to give a shit about them
This is me wanting to punch you in the face again
after you tried to wax poetic
about the fuckery you pulled
instead of somehow finding
the fucking decency within yourself
to offer up a sincere apology
This is me saying look, motherfucker:
You don’t get to step on my dignity
then tell me emptiness is beautiful
You don’t get to pretend
you understand my pain
when your dick moves
are the cause of it
You don’t get to act like
you’re so fucking deep and special
when you’re just a fuckboy
spouting empty clichés
still hung up on your ex
who probably never loved you back
because she knows you’re an asshole
This is not heartbreak
when I was always seconds away
from never wanting to see you again
This is disappointment
in myself
for thinking that chemistry could mitigate
the degradation and humiliation
that comes with
desiring boys
who look at me
and see a body
instead of a person

One thought on “Note to Fuckboy

  1. Pingback: Tinderp Tale #10: It Didn’t Have To Be Me | lampshade on her head

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