Ache

I used to be able

to tell you anything.

Through your silences

and perfectly-timed kisses,

you opened me up to every word

I wanted to speak.

Vulnerability, honesty,

they were stirred

by the taste

of your tongue.

And together

we began unfolding.

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Fucking Falsies

God fucking damnit. Mia pulled the false lashes off for the second time. Glue made fine stringy lines before snapping and sticking to her eyelid, mixing with mascara. She was not off to a good start. Still, at least she wasn’t in a rush. There was exactly one hour before the shoot and an Uber to pick her drinking ass up. She had danced this tango before and knew it was a swirling dervish of long and immense suffering. Mia’s fingers picked at her eyelid and came away with what looked like gray boogers. She wiped them on her sweatpants and thought, Gross. This shit was ridiculous. But when she could blink and cause a hurricane, it would all be worth it.

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Indulgence

Perhaps I have had too much. Too much love, too much sex, too many showers. I’ve been blurring the lines, slipping in and out of arms, tumbling between sheets, and landing in a tangle of my own limbs with my angry, laughing heart pumping in the middle of it all. And I have no one to blame, no one to praise, but myself; electric me, natural and alive and disgraceful. In love with the idea of every experience, calling the name of temptation, wrapping my legs around her waist, tasting and pushing before life pulls me on, hands still reaching, yearning to touch and be touched by everything.

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