I'm Made of Paper Cranes, What Are You Made of?

My soul wants to take flight.
Broken wings keep me trapped.
My shell has been used.
Used and misused,
All with my consent.
And now I wonder,
For what did I give,
And not receive.
My battered heart,
Worn and torn,
Unable to hold any more.
I don't want to feel like this again.
_________________________


Hot water pounding,
Toes curling,
Head covering,
Tears rolling,
Arms holding,
Thoughts racing,
Cries reaching,
Not a sound escapes.


That's not exactly where I was planning on going with that, but I liked how it sounded so I went with it. What I meant to write was how broken and alone I felt and realized I was yesterday, in the shower. The hot water was pounding on my back, my legs curled up beneath me, my arms circled around myself, my head bent down. And all that I could think about was how easily I've been giving myself up, how all these guys just want to use me, because I've given them permission to. I wondered if there was anything else about me, other then my apparent ability to suck cock, that made them want me. Anything about me that actually made them want me. As a person, not a mouth, or an.. opening.
What bothers me most is that I actually still have no problem hooking up with guys. I just don't want these guys again. I'm still completely comfortable with random hookups. Which makes me realize that it's not because I'm particularly horny, I just seem to view hook ups as opportunities. "It's possible for him to ask me out on a date after our hookup, right?". Silly delusions, no doubt, but beliefs none the less. Something to believe in, something to hold on to.
It's all I have left really.


By the way, I'm totally over you. No, I'm not talking about you, though I'm totally over you too.