I’m More Than Just A Pretty Face And A Body To Spend The Night Next To

girl leaning on couch, I'm not the girl you take home, hookup culture, strong woman
God & Man

I’m facing another sleepless night, trying desperately to drown out the noise of my phone. It’s vibrating with your ringtone and lost, tangled up somewhere in my comforter because yes, I do still fall asleep with my phone gripped tightly in my palm with hopes that I’ll hear from you before I drift off into my dream world.

A world where we’re still together and you still call me darling.

I know there’s no story to be told. No promises to be kept. No tears to be shed. I know this because I know you. I know how your mind works. I know you didn’t mean it when you said you loved me. That actually, when you said it, a collage of pretty, skinny, barbie doll girls popped into your mind, and you could have been speaking to any one of them.

I know our yesterdays are over, our tomorrows will never come, and our hearts beat in different patterns.

I know your intentions were never sincere and your words never truthful. I know I’ll always be the body you desire to touch, yet never the mind you yearn to explore.

But the thing is, I do still want you. I would still jump at the chance to be called yours. But it’s the way that you only ever want to hear my voice at 2am, when I’m groggy, vulnerable, and willing to make my body your home once more, that holds me back from acting on my desires.

I was the body that kept you company. The arms that kept you warm. The lips that showed you tenderness from your collarbones to the tips of your fingers. But I was never the girl you’d want to find in bed next to you on a Sunday morning.

You wanted me until you drowned, but once you realized you were gasping for air you’d pull yourself out of my ocean and straight out of my life. Water-filled lungs and all.

You tell me you miss me and that things haven’t been the same, but all that’s different is that you’re starting to forget what my skin looks like in the dark.

You forgot the beauty marks that cover the right side of my stomach and when you breathe in you no longer smell my shampoo. I know I’m nothing more to you than a few hours to kill and a pretty face to call yours. I know you see me as something to be conquered, an object to be won. But even my willingness to fill your void isn’t enough to satisfy your desire. You’ll keep calling, I’ll keep dropping everything at the sound of your voice, and we’ll make sure this never makes it past 5am.

See, I was willing to allow you to take me prisoner. I’d put on my favorite shade of red lipstick and dress myself up to your standards, simultaneously lowering my standards and allowing myself to be the girl whose acceptance of herself relies solely on the acceptance of others. The girl who would do whatever it took for an arm around her waist and a few fingers intertwined with hers.

And I’ve been warned. I’ve seen the caution tape and I’ve heard the sirens. I know your danger, but I also know I can’t get enough. I’m familiar with your sharp edges and I’ve tasted the bitterness of your lies.

And the truth is I miss it all. The sleepless nights and overslept mornings. Getting lost in your espresso eyes and coming undone at your command. Dissolving in your touch and feeling the warmth of your breath as you’d lie next to me, arm gripped tightly around my body, pulling me so close we’d collide and our worlds would turn to one.

But I’m tired of turning people into monuments and then standing in a pile of ruins wondering when things went wrong. I’m tired of being looked at as a way to kill an hour or two.

And yes, I’ve thought about running time and time again. And yes, your edges were too rough compared to my softness, but there’s something about the way you say my name that satisfies a hunger and makes me feel something in a heart that’s been nothing but hollow for so long.

But at the end of the day I’m forced to face the realization that to you I’m nothing but the girl you want at 3am. The girl you want to devour. To conquer. To tuck away at the top of your bookshelf for safe keeping, where I’ll remain until the next time you feel lonely and sorry for yourself.

I’ll always be the girl you want to hold on your lonely, blurry nights. I’ll always be the girl that’s broken, because you never quite knew how to put me back together when you were done with me. To you, I’ll always be that girl.

But to me, I’m much, much more than that. TC mark

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