Category Archives: Love, Romance, and all that Jazz

All Change

One of my best friends for the past decade of our lives is currently on a plane, crossing time zones and country borders as she travels from Singapore to New York. Despite knowing that she had some twenty-odd hours of recycled air and uncomfortable airplane seats in front of her, it hadn’t stopped me from sobbing at her over the phone for nearly an hour while she juggled luggage, rogue trolleys, and phone, all while offering words of comfort. The mark of a true friend – no judgment even though you’ve pretty much been the biggest idiot the world over, and a trans-Indian Ocean phone call when you’re most in need.

I finally saw you again last night.

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Protected: A love letter

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A boy like you

It’s like you weaved a spell around my senses and all I can think about is you. My head is filled with you. I close my eyes and I see you, open them, and I see you. Your blue, blue eyes, that cheeky smile, the way you’d wink and laugh after you’ve said something particularly naughty. The way you’d sprawled on the grass, framed by sunlight, the carpet of green a stark contrast to the dark blue you were wearing. The way you would nudge me with your foot in apology while knowing you’d be forgiven anyway. Your eyelashes are long and golden, framing your eyes, fluttering with every blink and I’m captivated, I want to touch them. And then there are the memories, of moonlit parks in the small hours, of you with your lips wet with spit, eyes blinking open to reveal dilated pupils as I moved on top of you, shielded by the night. The way you moaned as you suckled at my breast, teeth gently grazing at the nipple. Your murmurs of encouragement as I whimpered and shuddered, caught up in the newness of it all. The way you grabbed my arms to pull them around your neck, silently asking me to hold on, the way you’d plead, “Oh baby I want to feel you, let me feel you”. It’s all you, you, you. I remember you and there is a wetness between my thighs, growing, seeping through the thin cloth, and I want you, I want you, but I don’t know how to want you and I was afraid you wouldn’t want me if you knew. But now you know and you still call and god is this really happening? What would a boy like you want with a girl like me? A girl who has never been kissed or touched, yet is as easy as a twopence slut? You wouldn’t, I know you wouldn’t and I’m terrified, so terrified of falling for you like so many others before you except this time the odds are bigger, the risks higher. You were the first boy I kissed, you will always be the first boy I kissed and I can’t help but wonder if you like that in a way, in your possessive way. But if I give myself to you what will I use to lure you in again? After all, the only reason you’re still around is because of the novelty of getting to fuck a virgin; a boy like you would never in a million years want anything to do with a girl like me.

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