I sucked on your wound, spitting out aged poisons that coated my lips red the way you told me you liked them over a beer. I danced for you, dressed in your sweat, whispering tender shadows while your hand dragged decay down my thigh. You always paid me in probably’s.
but now it’s over, and i am o-k without you.
gym? GYM?! ahhhhhhhhh
sacrifice hope of passion for immediate security — there could be worse trade-offs.
i would like these things in summer