As part of Valentine’s examination on modern love, Motley has delved into the world of bad dates, personal essays and poetry. Our first in a poetry series, Ilsa Flynn spills her guts in her poetry.
Lust Me Again Tomorrow Baby
Lust me again tomorrow baby,
Before I realise what it means,
Before it becomes a thing,
Or I want to see you again.
That ridiculous smile that comes with a kiss
While you’re thinking “How the hell do I get out of this?”
And it’s simpler than you thought really
Just run fast.
Far away from my desperate ass.
You ran your fingers through my ringlets without feeling
While I envisioned our wedding, and tried to seem more appealing.
Baby, look me in the eyes one more time
And tell me that you really like me,
But it’s just not going that way
And this is just sex
And “it’s not you it’s me.”
Like seriously?
Why would I wear a bra today
And spend the day not eating?
Just to hear another excuse as to why you’re leaving.
I’ve tried on a different version of myself for all of you.
But it’s never the right one that comes through.
Despite how good it feels to touch a chest beating
It feels better not to, when it’s just this scenario repeating.
By Ilsa Flynn
