Making love with strangers is how you get hurt.

The difference between fucking and loving is taboo to some because not everyone can separate their emotions.

I think it might’ve been way the way I waited. How you never pursued and I knew you were a gentleman all along.

I loved you, I did. I believe I even sold myself a bit: on your love, my lust, your hair and just the way we stood there. How the air smelled of you, the way your shirt was cursed with blues. The way we danced by the ocean in front your mini-garden. The white fence, your loveliness and the heavenly kisses. It’ll always be the sheets, lying beside, holding your arm and kissing your hair in a loving stride.

The raindrops tapped your windows like my lips tapped your back.

It was the way I kissed your thighs.

He said he liked my rhythm. I said I liked his heartbeat, and it was within that moment I knew our corners would never meet.