Everyone on this island is fucking somebody’s ex
And everyone is somebody’s
fucking ex
We are all former lovers, turned alcoholic
dirty little secrets and wasted late night texts
With minimal effort, we show no respect
We push our way into one another’s spaces,
demanding, and firm-handed,
that we be accepted
as we are the absolutely most
imperfect version of ourselves
Make no apologies.
Show no regret.
If literally everyone else is doing it
doesn’t make you special, k?
Broken-hearted little boys,
one hundred Peter Pans in Wonderland
meeting fearless ragdoll goddesses
to play with one another’s sex
like toys,
disrobed, but barely exposed
in this heat, chasing
undisclosed, fast evaporating joys
The men much rather
gather their trios, and Miguel
at their local, than ever even dare
admit to any one
of their “best” “friends”
that they think
that maybe
they might have
fell – Dios mio!
If anyone asks, that bitch was hell
As long as they don’t show it
doesn’t really matter who you tell
In the end it’s just as well,
we’re all liars here
Blind mice running
in triangles, beach, bar, club
hopping, hoping
we’re shining something free and clear,
as we double down
our free cocktails to forget the fear
that somebody else
is probably fucking our ex.
November 7, 2020
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