Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for language and mature content.
We sit eyes locked
on the narrow bed.
These threadbare sheets
coarse to touch will
soon shroud us and
our wonders of the evening.
.
You bite your lip.
I feel the blood rush
through my body,
every heart beat like
and eternity of lustful
energy; I need to release.
.
"I need you to tell me something."
You offer. It sits between us in
the air of lust and confusion.
"go on" I offer, my words sultry
and seducing.
"Who else have you slept with?"
And I immediately fall down
my mental rabbit hole.
.
Should I tell you about Connor?
My first. Those lips caressing every
contour of my frame.
How they left raspy
messages on the inside of
my ear, soothing that burning pain.
.
How about Michael?
That older man who drove
me to that wood.
We made twisted images
in the back seat of his car;
I can still feel the leather of
those brown seats.
.
The twins, Logan and Harry.
How I felt like
I was in a house of mirrors.
Constantly flitting
between one and the other
in passionate bouts of lust.
The day I experience both ends of the stick.
.
How about Matthew.
That Irish sex god
whose lustful tones dug into
me as much as his fingernails did.
Those scars on my
hip bones from where he
grabbed just too hard.
.
How about Thomas
the pilot who took me to
inconceivable heights.
Kieran the sailor
who took me on high sees.
The soldier, Ryan,
who help me like a captive.
Or how about someone else?
.
"No-one" I whisper.
Your chest heaves as
you buy into my lie.
You move slowly towards me,
you're smiling.
I think one final thought
before kissing you;
why is it better to
be considered a virgin,
than a slut?
.
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Okay. I'm going to ignore content and focus on structure for this one.
I get the idea of what you're trying to accomplish with this poem, but I think it's off. It seems sort of list-y and more like prose than poetry. I think if you focus more on emotion than story-telling and use some metaphors, you might be able to steer it back on track. Also, I noticed that you use "No-one" a lot. While that's technically not wrong, it's kind of distracting for me, and sort of interrupts the flow. That may just be because I'm used to seeing it without the hyphen. Like I said, it's not actually wrong, so I guess it doesn't really matter. But other than that, I saw nothing wrong. Great job on spelling and punctuation. It means a lot to me that you used perfect grammar. :')
Chills went down my spine as I read this.

I've often found myself asking the same question that you ended the poem with. The conclusion to me has more than often been that it doesn't matter which one you are, the important part is that you are proud of what you are (or something like that).
I enjoyed your descriptions of 'the guys', (first get your mind outta the gutter) but I found it a tad hard to read because the lines where cut sort of unevenly in comparison to how it was supposed to be read.
I've got to say that I truly found this fascinating and I'd love to read more of your work
Hello there! I'm returning the favor of the review!
First of all, poems should always be single spaced. With the software on this website, you have to hold shift when you press enter to keep the work single spaced.
This poem asks an interesting question, one that I myself have been trying to answer for a long time. In the confines of today's society, it is neither better to be a virgin than not a virgin, as if you are a virgin, you are labeled a prude, and if you are not a virgin, you can be labeled a "slut."
Some say that it is better to be a virgin because you are "clean" and untainted, which can be true, at least in the cases of STIs or STDs, but metaphorically, you are the same person either way. Also, it's generally a double standard. Women are expected to be virgins because they have been oppressed for thousands of years; why should they get to do what they want with their bodies when men own them? For thousands of years, women have been treated as property. It's like an expensive vase. No one is allowed to touch it because it is breakable, and then the owner of the vase would have to get a new one. That's how women have been treated.
But I digress.
I find that the end of the poem should sum up the rest of the poem, but you get rather listy in the poem, seemingly going off topic. I understand that the narrator is listing the sexual experiences he (I'm assuming it's a he) has had, and is wondering this at the end, but I don't really think that the examples are supporting the main idea of the poem.
Perhaps this poem would be more powerful if the narrator told the truth and the other still wanted to sleep with him. Acceptance of the painful truth is much more powerful than a lie leading to a false acceptance. The listing of the partners would be able to rise and climax near the end, and the other person could tell him that he doesn't care, that he would still have him because it's okay to not be a virgin, while the confessor worries about the reaction. I think that would make a more powerful poem. Lying about this leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
I hope that this review made you think, and proves useful to you. I enjoyed reading about this subject; it's important to me. Have a great day, and keep writing!
Hey
Thanks for the review
My sort of concept was so that he, (well I), have all these experiences in my head, he is concious of them and aware of them, but then chooses to not tell them anyway. Rather than face a label he doesn't want. I was sort of like would I tell the truth in this situation and honestly I wouldn't, so I was taken that stance on it
But I appreciate your comments, so thanks 