How to be a bad boy
Confessions from the Other Side of Loyalty
The night you lied about who was calling while we were on the phone together— I called my ex afterwards.
That day you wouldn’t kiss me because your friend was around— I slept with my neighbour.
That time you refused to call me “babe” because he was standing right there— I made it official with someone else.
The moment you didn’t pick up because you were with colleagues— I had someone come over.
That instant you didn’t blow a kiss because your friend was in the car— I went to the club and got blown after offering her a job.
The second you cut my call because you saw my name on the screen— I called Shereen over and made her scream.
The minute you called me by my government name because your friend walked in— she slipped her number in my pocket and I used it the moment we hung up.
That December you acted like we were just friends in front of your pal— the next December, with girls over, one asked if I was seeing anyone. I called you boring and dull.
When you refused to accept my Instagram request— I asked a fan for nudes and enjoyed them right there next to you.
Those Friday nights I hated being on my own and you had excuses to be “alone”— I always took somebody home.
All those missed calls while you were out with friends— that’s when I decided you didn’t deserve my loyalty.
Every time I left your place early because a friend was coming over— I slept with someone else.
All the nights you lied about who you were with— I lied too, and it was never my bed I was in.
Every time I played dead when your phone lit up with another man’s name— a piece of my love for you died.
And every hour you flirted with someone else on the phone— I was having phone sex too. And she always came over.
Each time you cropped my face out of a picture before posting— I cropped you out of my heart.
Every week your phone lit up with the same name— I smiled, because now we were just playing the same game.
Every hit I took from you— I lost a little more guilt.
And every excuse you gave not to sleep with me— was an excuse for me to sleep with someone else.
Need I go on?
About every moment you made me feel small and I had to keep a straight face and play ball?
I hope every false confession I’ve just made hurt you as much as you hurt me.
And if sins of the mind count, then I’m guilty of every one— because that’s what I truly wanted to do each and every time.
About the Creator
Mischief Muchaneta
A geek but I turn green when I write. I dabble in short prose and poetry. A quiet STORM…
Keep reading
More stories from Mischief Muchaneta and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Duelist
The rays of a dying red sun flashed against the onrushing blade. The grey beards say the key to dueling lies in size, speed, reach, righteous fury, whatever the person in front of them pays them to say. Matteo knew better than any it was none of these and had an undefeated record on these sands to prove it.
By Matthew J. Fromm4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Your poetry is truly enchanting! The vivid imagery and heartfelt emotions resonate deeply, drawing the reader into a world rich with meaning. Each verse flows beautifully, showcasing your unique voice and talent. Keep sharing your incredible gift!