I Don’t Want To Do It Anymore.

I don’t want to look at you
and think about
your lips on my body.
I don’t want to watch you
do some random thing
with your hands
and imagine your fingers
on me,
in me.
I don’t want to wait
all day
for the few stolen moments
I might have
with you.
I don’t want to do it anymore.

I don’t want to feel like
I’m in love
with a lie.
I don’t want to
pretend that
what we have
is strong enough
that it’s worth
all the risks.
I don’t want to
falsely believe
that if it all fell apart
with her
you would turn
to me
and we would be
real.
I don’t want to do it anymore.

I don’t want to
sit in a room
alone with you
and wonder
if
or when
or how
you’re going to
touch me.
I don’t want your
casual touches
in front of her
to make me feel
terrified
that my face is
giving away
secrets.
I don’t want to
live
with the constant fear
of being caught
and losing you
both.
I don’t want to do it anymore.

I don’t want to be
this comfortable
around you.
I don’t want to be
this anxious
around you.
I don’t want to
wonder if
and worry that
you love me
or
I love you.
I don’t want to do it anymore.

I don’t want to have
the constant pressure
of being pretty enough,
put together enough,
sexy enough,
clean enough,
for you to want to
fuck me.
I don’t want to
do squats every day,
eat salads every day,
wear cute underwear every day,
just in case
you might
at some point
undress me.
I don’t want to
shave my cunt,
clean my house,
time my shits and showers
around when you
might
go down on me or
touch my asshole.
I don’t want to do it anymore.

I don’t want to
want you
this often,
this much.
I don’t want
to want you
to feel
more for me
than you do.
I don’t want
to want
the fantasy in my head
to be our
reality.
I don’t want to do it anymore.

But I don’t know how not to.
I don’t know how to
stop.
I don’t know how to
go back
to what we were
before and
I don’t know how to
calm
my breath
my blood
my heart
when I’m with you,
when I’m thinking of you
I don’t want to
feel
sick with worry
that somehow
she knows.
I don’t want to do it anymore.

I don’t even want
the throuple
anymore.
I don’t want to feel like
you’re cheating on me
with your wife,
with my friend.
I don’t want to be
angry at you when
you and she are
smiling at each other,
touching each other,
calling each other
Honey and Sweetie.
I don’t want to want
only you.
I don’t want to be jealous
of her.
I don’t want to remember
the night in my car
when we made a pact.
When you said to me
“If anything ever happens
to her
you and I
will be together
because we would work
and because life has to
go on.”
I don’t want to
think about
how happy
I would be
if something
that sad
happened to her,
to you.
I don’t want to be
this fucked up.

So,
Even though
I will,
I don’t
want
to do it
anymore.