Poetry: The Body Keeps the Score by Taylor Thomas

The Body Keeps the Score

Do you like it when I moan? Arch my back just right. Spank me, choke me, notice me. I want to be your favorite porn star. I want to want to like it. I want you to like it.

And you do. I can tell. You huff and puff, eyes barely open. Your dick goes in and out, in and out, rapidly. Do you wonder what it feels like for me?

If my body could talk it would say no. Not just to this 5-minute hookup. Not just to your rapid bunny fucking.

My body would say no to lying, but I don’t know how to stop doing that.

Two fingers inside me & the others artlessly fumble for my clit. You have an idea of where it is, because of Tik Tok & Twitter, but you aren’t 100% sure what or where it is.

I arch up when you find my nubbin. Yes, I said nubbin. I read it in a romance novel once and laughed until I cried.

Did you notice me react? I have to assume no because you stop doing the thing that made me momentarily excited. Now it just feels like quick poking and prodding.

If my body could talk it would say do fucking better. Out loud I say, “Fuck…” nice and slow so you think I’m in raptures.

I’m an actress, the world’s best. I position my body the way you need it. I moan and cry out like the best. But most of all, I fake it.

I fake it when I swallow you, pretending that the taste does not make me gag. “What a champ.” That’s the look you give me like you’re proud of me for taking it without complaint.

I fake it when you’re inside me. Never seeming to know when to speed up or slow down just the way I need you to.

But you’re happy right? You don’t pull out because why should you? I’m on birth control.

You lay back, satisfied, congratulating yourself for a well-earned fuck. You pull out your phone and begin scrolling and I, dismissed, begin looking for my underwear.

That was great. That was amazing. You’re a stallion. When can I see you next?

I am clingy. I am needy. I am fuel for the next conversation with your friends about “bitches on my dick”.

If my body could talk it would say: Blocked. From social media, from my body, from my life. But I’m not good at honesty.

I’m good at acting. I’m good at pretending. I’m good at making you physically happy.

 

But if my body could talk, it would say I need more than this.

Taylor Thomas (she/her) is a biracial & bisexual emerging writer from Indiana. Her work has been published or forthcoming in Bayou Magazine, Salt Hill Journal, The Journal, So to Speak Journal, and more. She received the Outstanding Literary Essay award from Voices of Diversity in 2021. She currently attends the University of Notre Dame's MFA in Creative Writing. She lives in South Bend, Indiana with her husband, Herschel, and her dogs, Bella & Buster.