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I am splayed out in front of you. I am all bare, blinking flesh and beat red limbs and matching moles on my inner thighs and you cant help but already hate the next man who gets to fall asleep ...
Darling, none of us are much more than questions and commas and dizzy vowels stuck on repeat. I can’t give you answers, but I can listen to your questions and etch them firmly into my palms.