the death and rebirth of intuition
to all the men i rejected
and girls i held back from
to all the opportunities eviscerated
i am sorry
i am sorry i
am uncomfortable in my own being.
mentally, i have found my peace.
internally, i am |||||—
externally, i am|———-
i guess this is no longer socially tolerable.
i’m now at an age where my sexuality is the public’s issue.
where i appear to a jury of my peers to present my scores
they say i should have
|——| much experience and
|——–| much intuition and
|————–| much trust
i don’t want that
because i don’t think i can
i watch everyone date and fall in love and fuck acquaintances and suck off strangers
i feel jealousy, for the flippancy with sex and the ease of handling attraction.
yet, i am not open to chance.
i have not had sex since i was with him.
a joke, an embarrassment, concaving to external pressures
i do not reply to his messages
i do not read them.
i have not been with someone since Danielle
who, like most,
only wanted me because i was there.
i was a honey dripping hole for her to fill with her insecurities
a distraction from her box
i give myself wholly to the dream, and the reality has nothing for sustenance.