Nine

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Abstract

lmost anything, tell me to love me sparingly, too much seems routine. Don’t get bored with me… my love is Sodom. When you look at me I swear I can see you slowly turning to salt. So I turn the lights off… trust me in this artificial blindness. All I want is time.</li><li>I’ve been told I’m unlovable so many times I believe it. Self-preservation is a reflex. If you propose I’ll probably say no, eyes fogged, all I see is fear. But I hope you see, people taking you to the side asking <i>“who wears black on their wedding day?” </i>And you will smile and say, <i>“my wife.”</i></li><li>You have permission to remarry if I do say hello to the forever night but please, please, please don’t let people I hate speak at my eulogy.</li><li>I think the way we as people go about love these days is wrong so when you do meet me. <b>Label me</b>. I feel waterboarded in the unknown.</li><li>I’m sorry your future wife is a walking contradiction… I hope you like emotional instability with a side of girl, passive aggression as the drink pairing, baggage for dessert. But I don’t expect you to fix me, I’m not broken, just human.</li><li>I have made some epic mistakes with romance in the past, adopted behaviours are stolen fabrics that form my patchwork quilt.</li><li>Is the magic number before you should settle down, apparently. But I am everyone I have ever loved, so I know for you, numbers won’t count.</li></ol><p id="33db"><a href="https://mailchi.mp/1b847dce9896/zuvaseven"><i>Join my list</i></a><

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i> to keep in touch! I’ll also send you my guide for true beginners. Filled with all the things I wish I knew starting out as a writer.</i></p><p id="8ea2"><i>I am also the editor of <a href="https://medium.com/an-injustice?source=post_page---------------------------">An Injustice!</a> A intersectional millennial publication. <a href="https://readmedium.com/write-for-us-b67daf126c25">Check here</a> for how to join!</i></p><div id="df4d" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/moving-on-c0f370255dd6"> <div> <div> <h2>Moving On</h2> <div><h3>A haiku</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*buJKBQoTTonJuiRq5UwdiA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="8b8f" class="link-block"> <a href="https://psiloveyou.xyz/burn-a3fe8417a9e"> <div> <div> <h2>Burn</h2> <div><h3>A poem on being the other one in the open relationship</h3></div> <div><p>psiloveyou.xyz</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*ShsS2BnnU352d_lSD9kQBA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A poem written to my future someone — nine is the number of sexual partners you’ll have before settling down

Person, who hasn’t had the pleasure of loving me, how are you? Mom, dad, siblings if you have any? “meet your soulmate by 21- scientist guaranteed” So… are you dead or should I file a missing persons report?Or maybe we have met? And you, slow to realise the perfection that is me left me to fuck with dickheads!

When we do finally meet, the first thing to know is I use humour to hide my insecurities. uncertainty is also a pet peeve, never tell me “maybe” or “we’ll see”…they trigger anxiety. Followed by the executive decision you obviously meant to say no. My self-destructive tendencies are a lifeline to control.

Are you a fortune teller, Shaman or wizard? If the answer is no, don’t waste time spinning gold into my ears.

I am hopeless romantic that hates romance so, buy me bread not a bouquet, books over jewellery. I’d rather watch anime over doing almost anything, tell me to love me sparingly, too much seems routine. Don’t get bored with me… my love is Sodom. When you look at me I swear I can see you slowly turning to salt. So I turn the lights off… trust me in this artificial blindness. All I want is time.

I’ve been told I’m unlovable so many times I believe it. Self-preservation is a reflex. If you propose I’ll probably say no, eyes fogged, all I see is fear. But I hope you see, people taking you to the side asking “who wears black on their wedding day?” And you will smile and say, “my wife.”

You have permission to remarry if I do say hello to the forever night but please, please, please don’t let people I hate speak at my eulogy.

I think the way we as people go about love these days is wrong so when you do meet me. Label me. I feel waterboarded in the unknown.

I’m sorry your future wife is a walking contradiction… I hope you like emotional instability with a side of girl, passive aggression as the drink pairing, baggage for dessert. But I don’t expect you to fix me, I’m not broken, just human.

I have made some epic mistakes with romance in the past, adopted behaviours are stolen fabrics that form my patchwork quilt.

Is the magic number before you should settle down, apparently. But I am everyone I have ever loved, so I know for you, numbers won’t count.

Join my list to keep in touch! I’ll also send you my guide for true beginners. Filled with all the things I wish I knew starting out as a writer.

I am also the editor of An Injustice! A intersectional millennial publication. Check here for how to join!