my fingersworking this grace infested force once upon a time, vividly searching for words and words upon words clinging to romance heart ache manipulation or greed.. repetitive like remaining so.. casual, so tedious, clean & naïve.. but this dream .. this dream like conversation in between the freshly scented sheets urging to touch not another but myself, boycotting that spell broken sunrise accepting to forget this context as I’ve done time & time again.. craving this hedonistic, sexual sort of foreplay inspired diary entry I’ve found myself writing dirty poetry

Dirty poetry..

Dirty Sweet Nothings.

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