Vulnerability is treated like an ick now. I joke instead. Then I want to say it in daylight and my mouth does that stupid freeze.
Tag: dating
No name talk. No job talk. No story about the week. Just a dark room and a warm body that does not need a biography.
The performance drops in the back seat. Makeup in the window. Feet wrecked. I replay the exit I missed and still call it fun anyway.
The chase was fun. Then I texted first in daylight and the spark died. Some men only want the me that leaves at dawn anyway.
Times, trains, whose house after. I look organised. I am just frightened of being left in a doorway with nowhere to put this tired face.
I do not compete with a lock screen. Eyes on me. Hands on me. If you can scroll you are not as into this, mouth.
Unavailable is not mysterious. It is unpaid labour I do in my head. If he wanted to, that message would already be sitting right there.
I can spot a bad idea in a nice coat. I still say yes. Chemistry feels like proof. It is usually just familiar old trouble.
Daytime me budgets and makes plans. Night me wants a mouth on mine and no chat about next week. Lighting does half the actual lying.
Good coat, dead eyes, phone already out. I do it too. The city rewards looking sorted. It never even asks if you even slept tonight.