Modern Love

Don’t bring me flowers, bring me olives.

***Please note, this poem is rated X. Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars if you are:

A. related to me

B. Can’t handle the word f**k…4 times.

C. The thought of someone performing fellatio makes you squeamish.

Everyone else, enjoy!


Modern Love
And there he is again–
chasing me
tracking my feed
and haunting my need to be–
He feasts on my words and photos
waiting to pounce
the moment I reveal too much.
And he waits for me to–
Fuck it all up.
He taunts me with likes
but never loves what he likes.
He rarely does.
He rarely forwards me anything but
things he think I might think of–
Fucking him
And only him.
Are you loyal yet?
Has he set in motion the notion
I might GET to be his girlfriend?
Maybe this time, this selfie
–He’ll see–
I’m beautiful even when I try not to be.
He’ll see I’m feisty and fun and
willing to go down on him
at the movies.
Do you want to see a movie?
I’ll just check in
there with my girlfriends
and see if he starts following me.
Have I shown him yet
I can be all the things he needs?
Wait, a DM
Maybe this means
He’s ready to commit to me?
“Hey baby, lets meet.”
Finally, he sees me for me.
He’s ready.
Oh, but wait,
2 o’clock in the morning
He sent that shit to me.
Text me.
Text me.
“Where you at, baby?”
Text me.
Text me.
And I reply:
“I’m home. In my pjs.”
Wait. Wait. Wait.
He always makes me wait.
I know he read it.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
“Show me, baby.”
“Show you what?” I reply.
I know what he’s asking for.
We all know what he’s looking for.
Maybe I’ll just give him a little bit,
see if that shit wakes his ass up.
Makes him come over.
Click. Click. Click.
See that?
I can play too.
You better not make me wait.
And boom.
“Mmmmhmm that’s it baby.”
“Wanna come over?” I say…
Wait. Wait. Wait.
He always makes me wait.
He read it.
He knows what I wanted.
Don’t make me ask again.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
He always makes me wait.
“Baby, you know I can’t.”
But we can play this way, right baby?
That’s what you mean to say?
“I’m going to sleep.” I tell him.
“But baby,” he pleads.
Baby nothing, I think.
And then I sink into my bed
Regretting not playing his game instead.
Click. Click. Click.
I send another one,
–just in case–
he forgets how great the first one was.
“Thanks, baby. Goodnight.”
And just like that, he’s gone again.
He shut me off before we got started.
He got what he wanted.
And I’m alone with my thoughts in my bed again
Thinking of him
and fucking him
and only him.
Am I loyal yet?
And regret some more.
So I try to sleep and keep thinking of him.
Waiting for him.
Waiting for his reply.
I wake up and see
He hasn’t come to his senses
He hasn’t texted me
Or sent me his apologies.
So I check my feed
my photos
and my need to be
And I realize
He deleted me.
He deleted everything.
Just like that he’s gone.
So I check his page
to see what’s up–
And that asshole
is in a relationship.
Fuck you.
Fuck this.
I don’t need this shit.
Good luck, Jessica.
He’s all yours, baby.
Maybe check his phone though?
He just texted me
He misses me.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
I’ll make him wait this time.
“I’m busy, baby.” I reply.
I roll over
give my man a morning hand
as he asks me who that was
and I reply,
“Nobody, wrong number.”

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