The walk of no shame used to feel like power. Lately it just feels like I am frightened of breakfast. That is a different story.
Tag: intimacy
Same bed. Different contracts. He thought chemistry was the agreement. I wanted a sentence. That mismatch is how a good night becomes a whole winter.
Drink can make a bad idea feel cinematic. Daylight and tea do not. I like the ones still filthy when nobody has an excuse left.
The night is not finished when you finish. Sit up. Talk rubbish. Touch my back. That quiet bit is how I decide you get another.
If you rush I stay in my head fixing my face. Give me a minute to get stupid. That is when it gets good both.
A good morning. A song. A nearly. Then silence for three days. I am not starving. I hate being fed in teaspoons by a coward.
Everyone worships chemistry like it is proof. Sometimes he is just nervous and I am performing. Slow burn is less sexy. It is less fake.
We swap memes and late voice notes. Nobody asks what this is. The talking stage is just two people auditioning without agreeing the job exists.
No speech about my past. No scoreboard on the night. Just appetite and a bit of manners. Rare. I remember them far too bloody long.
A bruise with no text after is just mess on skin. If you claim the body, you can claim the morning as well afterwards too.