It started with mattresses on the living room floor; my faux love.
Followed closely by a double-dog dare, I accepted and soon held him first.
The first time, it should’ve been our first time but I didn’t let him in.
I knew it would mean too much to me, so little to him.
The next time all it took was a campfire kiss,
Quickly after we were naked in the water. He took control
On my bucket list, slipped me his shirt, poured me a drink, and I was his.
He was comfortable, he was trustworthy, and he was beautiful
While all I was was makeshift. Brief separation led to goodnight texts
And I miss you’s. I was never really what he wanted but
He was all that I needed. He reinforced my emotions
With a rose and his hands everywhere I wanted them to be.
He added a heartbeat to my unmade bed and
Messy blankets became something I loved.
I was safe with him, secret safe. Someone never to be mentioned.
What meant the most was putting me in his sweater, kneeling down
Beside me and showing me all the constellations.
He gave new meaning to my body, but I still meant nothing.
The last time was anxious; riddled with tears, please
Don’t go. I wished he didn’t have to. Though for him,
It seemed to be the easiest farewell he ever said.
It ended with the highway and a hug goodbye.
But if my faux love ever decides to reignite,
I would feed the fire despite the pain from its burn.
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