Invasive

We are our worst enemy. The only time we get along is when the clothes come off. You hate conflict, so you run away from confrontation. “Can we talk?” triggers your PTSD, you remember everyone who called you enough but gave the love you deserved to the one who came after. I say I want…

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A Seat At The Table

You cure my bad days, you produce medicine made for the soul. A way to relax and count blessings. When your lips are on my lips, I taste heaven. With your hands against the wall and my eyes looking up before you take a seat, I see heaven. Together we form the perfect recipe, you…

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