hockey, faggotry, mental illness

when i chase you, you run
but when i stop, you come back
to check on me

i know we’re both scared
of being hurt and being used
but i won’t use you

can you promise not to use me?

i know you’ve withdrawn yourself
and i have too, recently
but maybe
just maybe

we can open up to each other
and learn
to be happy again

you said
you only want to be intimate with
a significant other
not specifically a girlfriend
and you know i’m not a girl—
i’m an “other”

and you said
you were straight but—
with some wobbly lines.

are you thinking about me?
or are you thinking about—

i don’t want to chase you anymore
i don’t want to back you into a corner
but i still hope you sit next to me

if we were both the rebound

if we were both used

& tossed away

like old toys—

are we meant to be together?

mine was joel

yours was noah

what is it with four letter names?

(though, to be fair

ours are both

four letters

as well)

i enjoyed our time together

i’m glad it was enough

that i fed you well

and for once

i’m glad

that i didn’t sleep over

you want me to get drunker

another glass of wine, just one more

why? so i touch you? so i get more confident?

make me pull your hair? push you around?

kiss you?


your room, spotless, other than a picture of your friends

from back in örebro

right next to the little TY rat i got you for your birthday

you’re cleaning now.

are you trying to become better?

no longer a project boyfriend,

but a perfect one?


i blew smoke in your face,

you inhaled and hummed at me,


verena said that

we should’ve shotgunned the smoke

lips to lips.


i always feel like i don’t deserve you,

but everyone says says you don’t deserve me.

we don’t deserve each other,

but i do know i yearn.


you let me paint your nails...

said it was nice to be taken care of


it was nice to take care of you

smoothen out your




was that a joke

when you held up your finished nails

and said you were bisexual now?


you asked me if i liked your perfume

asked me first

and i held your wrist, gently,

up to my nose.

it was nice.

what was that? was that a move?

was it super effective?

i just hurt myself in confusion

what are we, felix?


you know what i want already.

but when i whispered—

“are you my birthday present?”

it may have been lost in translation


i just want you to touch me back

like that night

where you held me still on your lap

and poured me a glass

of your stolen wine.

x = 9 is a mario maker glitch where the ninth column of tiles of the level map has different physics, different properties, and different interactions from the rest of the game



do you like me?


“what are you asking?”


“because, of course, i like you as a friend”


“or are you asking like like?”


yeah. i guess.





you don’t have to respond to this right away...

or at all, if you don’t want to. you don’t need to.



i really, really like you. like, like like.

you make me want to stop being a slut.

you make me want to slow down.

you make me want to settle.

and i haven’t cared about anyone like that in a long time, i haven’t felt that way about someone in a long time,

and honestly, it’s scary.

i want to be the one to go on dates with you.

i want to be the one who fixes your tie.

the one who appreciates your cooking,

...and the one you hold in your arms after a long day.

i know you always run away from parties—

well, the ones that i drag you to, anyways—

but i wish you’d take me with you when you leave.

you said that i’m stronger after survived

a man using me as a sex toy,

to be thrown away after—

but i’m unsure about that.

i don’t know if i’m stronger,

i honestly feel more vulnerable—

but somehow, safer with you.

again, felix, you don’t have to say anything right now.

or anything at all.

this confession was more about me

not being able to keep a secret.

i wear my heart on my sleeve.

i’m dramatic.

you know this.

and while i can’t keep secrets,

i can keep promises.


good night.

i’ll be in my room.

i’m in sweden, and perhaps you’re right, that i cannot love and cannot be loved back

I don’t know why I thought I would get anywhere with you.

You’re leap years older than me,

yet you act like a selfish child.

Then maybe, I thought, maybe if I told your girlfriend,

that you cheated on her, with me,

and with so many other bodies,

she would see you differently.

Maybe I could get closure.

But she didn’t care at all.

And she still loves you.

I miss the warmth of your body,

your soft hair in my hands,

my fingers tracing over your skin.

I miss the idea of intimacy,

smelling weird in the morning,

grumbling about how loud I snore.

What the hell is wrong with me?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You feel like you're healing now But, you still hate the facts. You love him, yes, but don't you know? Sidney doesn't love you back.

My heart beats, then it gets beaten I lied to you right through my teeth and I kept lying, our knot went slack Hockey doesn't love me back.

“I'm doing fine.

Been dealing with this for a long time, I'll be alright”

I don't know if I believe him,  but it's not my place to even know.  I feel obligated to help him, I've worn the same size skates, but we're strangers.

Our lives may be parallel,  but the connection remains parasocial. We know absolutely nothing about the other and everything at the same time.

I hope one day our lines may intersect.

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