I was made for
men like him,
lonely men who seek a lover they cannot have.
I am not a lover under his touch. Not a human. Not even something resembling a person.
I am his (inflatable) doll.
But I’m his, and sometimes that is all that matters.
If only for the moment, I am comforted by thinking I’m all he has.
But he only wants me when he needs me, and
He only needs me when she’s not there.
I need him all the time in order to exist.
I need his approval, his satisfaction,
His love
even if it is meant for another girl.
So I remain motionless
Under his caresses, both gentle and rough.
I don’t know how she acts, and
I’m afraid to act wrongly.
So I stay in my place as a doll.
I do nothing to stop
But soak in his kisses and the sensation of
his lithe fingers dance over my cheap frame.
I am empty, deflated.
After he is done—
his rough handling always ends this way
—between his soft kisses and murmurs resembling affection,
he inflates me again,
Gives me false hope.
Like a child putting away his teddy-bear,
He is satisfied for now, and he puts me away,
Forgetting about me
until he needs me again on some languid afternoon,
When he gets scared and lonely again.
I am eager for those moments,
Because I’m scared and lonely all the time.
when he holds me in real arms,
Sometimes I feel so lonely,
I am almost human enough to cry with him too.
I am terrified, that
One day he will put me away forever,
Whether it’s because he is finally gotten what he’s always wanted or whether it’s
Because he is finally bored of me.
I will simply die,
Because I have no meaning without him.
But, on any day,
He could find another me
because
I am very replaceable to him.