What I’d Write for You If We Were Instagram Official

Can’t believe I’ve been sleeping with this guy for almost a year! Time flies when you’re having sex.

When he calls me, the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I feel like the world will stop if I dont say the funniest thing at the best time. If he sends me a nude, I will think about how I can put his dick in a heart shaped locket that has my pussy on the other side. When the locket closes, our genitals will kiss, just like they do in real life.

The post will start with a picture of his dating profile, and I will say: love at first sight. The next photo will be a picture I took in his mirror when he wasn’t looking - it does not include him. The picture after that will be a screenshot of some lyrics that are beautifully written but not at all indicative of what my life is. It could be funny to photoshop a picture of us on a mountain or follow his ex girlfriend who actually went on that mountain with him.

Another month with the best! I cannot eat in front of him because that’s kind of too intimate. I don’t think he wants to see me like that, just doing a bodily function. Love you stink! Love you poop! I’m gonna pretend I’ve never farted in my life around this guy. Love you greasy sweaty man child!

I knew when I saw you this would be a beautiful situationship, one that would tear me apart. Rip me limb from limb. I watched a TikTok about how everyone has a situationship that makes them a little delulu, that makes them so babygirl like Kendall Roy. I know the best heartbreak of my life when I see one.

I just wanna exploit you sooo bad, I wanna make this so loud. You deserve this. I want to hang you up in my Instagram grid, like nailing Jesus to the cross. You can bleed through every aspect of my brand; you can suckle from my genius shitpost producing tits. I will bring you back to life, no matter the cost.

Poems are just captions. And I’m a tech savvy social media manager. It’s time - I’m ready for us to take the next step, for it to all mean nothing. For you to be looking at me in this vaccuum and for me to be looking back, until the air pressure begins to change and we’re not staring at each other anymore, because we both get turned around. Now we’re staring out into the audience, and they’re all going to have their way with us. The pipes start to burst. The shit water floods in. We’re halfway there, baby, just let me click post.

(The first women to have their souls stolen)