Spite.

A buddy here asked      
for the real photos of me      
because I talk a big game      
     
And  I insisted that every      
fucking picture I posted      
     
was really me.      
     
And they are.      
Run through AI.      
     
My best friend/brother      
is a hair stylist,      
and his husband is      
a photographer      
and they have      
a boudoir salon in      
their garage.      
     
I helped paint it.      
     
I have more photos of me in my      
underwear than you can shake a stick at.      
     
Because they need test shots      
and I actually have a hot fucking body.      
     
(I work harder than most people      
on my body      
so that's not a brag,      
that shit is earned.)      
     
So yeah.      
I thought he was different      
because I'm a near-six foot badass      
with a runner's body,      
working on a PhD.      
     
I thought he was different      
because my childhood trauma      
and the filth and poverty      
I scratched out of      
felt similar enough      
for us to connect.      
     
I thought he was different.      
     
Because I. am different.      
     
And now I leave you reader.      
   
Enjoy the show.    
     
Hey Sexy,      
I don't need a revenge body.      
I started with one,    
we both know that      
so. fucking. well.      
     
I hope you read this.      
I hope your dick goes limp      
when you realize another man's      
hands are gonna fit in your handles.      
     
I hope you remember the      
Valentine's Day I sent      
you an entire book      
of my      
body      
     
I hope you remember      
the writing spree you      
went on because      
you thought      
     
I      
     
was      
     
art.      
     
I hope.      
     
you never      
     
write      
     
again      
     
because you remember     
my lips half open      
in the red lingerie      
my long hair artfully      
thrown around my shoulders      
and you remember      
     
that.      
isn't.      
yours.      
anymore.      
     
I'm going to pay      
a Haitian lady      
to hex your dick      
but I want to personally      
hex your hands      
hex your muse      
hex your fucking will      
to write.      
     
I hope you      
don't write      
     
Because I will.      
     
You didn't take      
anything from me.      
       
It's still      
     
all      
     
mine.