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. 

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