My pole dancing journey was never smooth sailing. It took some falls, some deep falls, some so deep they seemed bottomless and hopeless.
I wonder what it’s like in your head, not just in your bed, where orgasms preside and emotional baggage is checked at the door. The bed you enter in the dark like a tornado, and escape from in the light like an illuminating lightning storm. The kind of storm one wants to get close to because of ...
And believe me, when I say that I love my darkness, I do not mean that I love to suffer.
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 here, with me. You can’t help but want to see the insides of his skull.