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: sex
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.
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.
Do not bury your face treating it like a task. I want the look. I want you to clock it. That bit stays with me.
I can feel when you are half in the room. Hands on me, eyes on a screen, I go cold. Be here. Notifications can wait.
It’s when the weirdos come out There is a particular hour on the Night Tube where you can tell exactly who everyone was three hours ago. Not from their faces. From the evidence. Mascara at midnight. Work badge in the…