I’m not sure this counts as poetry. I’m not entirely sure what it is, but it was quite cathartic writing it so at least there’s that.
I need to know what you’re thinking.
I need to know that you’re thinking about me, and not him.
I need you to put me first sometimes.
I also need you to not think that wanting to be put first is selfish or unreasonable.
I need to get over what happened.
I need to talk.
I need to be needed.
I need your arms around I need to feel your touch.
I need you to recognise that last one is from a Cake song that I forever associate with me being the fucking idiot, and not you.
I need to see you naked.
I need you to want to see me naked.
I need you to notice that I’ve been ‘manscaping’, if only because it means you’re looking closely at me.
I need to kiss you.
I need to taste you.
I need to hear you moan.
I need to be inside your thighs as you cum. Hard.