My real first time,
Was coated with depressants,
Sleep,
Pinned wrists and ripping walls.
My T first time,
Was a frenzy of forgetting,
Crying,
Angry grunting and near violence.
My J first time,
Was nearly as bad as the first,
Words binding me instead of long fingers.
He didn't even walk me home.
So tell me, darling,
How any of this compares to you.
Tell me, darling,
How any of that could be better,
Because, darling,
I am as sure as I can be,
As confidant as possible,
When I say it all dulls in comparison,
To the white hot love that settles between your sheets.
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