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The Lies We Tell:
“You’re so fragile”, he says, grazing his hands over my breasts. “We should try and sleep”, I tell him.
“We should”, he says kissing my neck, “but I can’t stop touching you”.
I’ll never tell him this but I like when he smiles when he kisses.
My neck receives the imprint of his lips, stretching across his face.
I want to ask what’s on his mind. Do you find me funny?
I could ruin the entirety of us in a heartbeat. Because I’m not serious either.
But there’s a certain sadistic joy of bringing a smile to someone’s face.
I wonder if it bothers you that I never embrace you, I never tell you I want to be held.
You never tell me if it really is me that you want.
I guess we’ll call it even then.
Photo by: Quin Stevenson