War Boys Poem by Belle Violet

You poor boys,
You’re all f**ked in the head.
Not sure why I insist on
winding up in your beds.
Maybe because
you’re handsome and strong.
Maybe because
your scars turn me on.
You’re fearless
and brooding
and brave;
You’re hardened
and tough.
You’re vulnerable enough
to crave.
There’s sand in your brain,
and Ink on your arms.
Beer in your stomach
and blood on your heart.
And you expect that
I’m willing to
spread my legs,
take you in,
refuse to
want to know you,
just disappear then.
But when you show me
that side of you,
when I’m writhing
on top of you,
and you could almost just pass
for a lovable man;
when you’re sweet
with your kisses,
and your dry lips
become glistening;
when your calloused, rough hands
are melting on my skin,
I can’t help but realize;
you’re not
such a tough guy.
But you,
you’d rather
die on a field
than remember
to feel..
despite my arms being
wrapped ‘round your neck,
And my face buried
into your chest.
A girl like me,
you would find,
Is a soft place to land;
Far from scorpions
and sand fleas
in Iraq and Afghanistan.
She won’t bite
or desert you;
Inconvenience, or
hurt you.
She won’t fault you
for your flaws or your harm.
And if you find that she hates you
she still would
take
care of you.
Of course soldiers
don’t need much,
but their gun and their guts.

I won’t stalk you.
Won’t text you;
And I won’t beg for
sex with you.
I’ll expect
you will reach this conclusion;
This girl is
sweet
as confection,
gives h**d
with conviction,
and you’ll regret what
you’re missing..
She’s just sweet
on a war boy
who should want
more than
a f**k toy.