I just want to keep on doing what we’re doing until next year.

February 2017

Gasping and flushed between latex and pussy soaked sheets.

He says, “I’m here”, as if he’s known I’ve been needing to hear those words since I was 6 years old.

We lay down together.

We fuck through the confusion and ambiguity.

Hoping the semen will provide some sort of clarity in its secretion.

It does not. It entangles us more.

I cry.

The desire is intoxicating.

It is a distraction from reality. From the state of things.

        It is deeply humanizing.

               Humiliating.

                           And beautiful.

He does not fill up my water cup.

But he fills my cup in other ways.

I know loss well.

He will always only fill his.Screen Shot 2018-03-05 at 3.59.45 PM

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