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theory

breasts of the challenging daughter

  Breasts are the most beautiful things in the world.  Luxurious, comforting, wholesome, sexy.  Nourishing emotionally, sometimes nourishing physically.  Variable, soft.  Fun to draw–so curved and lovely. I thank Mother God I have these pretty tits.  I like my smile, my hair, my eyes.  My mind, of course, and good intentions.  I appreciate my body’s

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Uncategorized

free

I don’t think your feelings for anyone are wrong.  I never feel ashamed of you.  I think you can feel however you feel about anyone in the world.  You are free, and no one can own your heart.   Maybe behavior could be more of a thing to limit, if you choose to.  But you know,

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truck

what I wish he’d say   I’ll hop in my truck and drive to you, straight thru, without sleeping. when I get to your house, I’ll take a shower.  then you can look at my naked body, hold me for as long as you want, get comfortable with how I feel against you, how I smell and move,

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mine

The first time we ever had sex, eight years ago, he drove me up the nearby mountain.  We hiked up a trail, and went off trail, where we took off our clothes and lay down on them, making ourselves a forest bed.  I touched his body.  I rubbed his dick with my hand, and sucked

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why I’m jealous

usually she’s a blonde white lady i love then hate with value i could never attain life i tiny bit wanted luxury of having children owning a house able to work a job  it’s more about resources than sex enraged you made sure she got in the front door but didn’t do that for me

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quick apology

“Sorry about your balls,” I said.  “I’ll make it up to them later.”

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unsent letter

pornstar retirement home

dear Friend, one day years from now, when you’re old and gray, in the pornstar retirement home–wow, what a place that would be!  you would be sleeping, and Mother God would send you a dream.   it would be a dream about me.  I’d be there in front of you, smiling and happy, riding my bike,

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Categories
poem

where does it hurt?

it hurts where I notice you can’t do the thing I thought we were doing. I was spinning straw into gold. you were talking about it. but as I sat at the wheel in the straw-stuffed room, for hot hours  whispering my spell, exhausted with mythical effort and magic work, you were fucking a convenient

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poem unsent letter

slow relationship

The first year, I would hold your hands, smile at you, spoon you as the big spoon, my breasts and tummy against your back, the fronts of my thighs against the backs of your thighs.  If you fell asleep, that would be fine.  I would caress your arms.  I’d kiss your hands, a blessing to

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Categories
unsent letter

how I really feel

I saw you as a smooth, creative person who needed very little.  A bikesexual filmmaker artist northwest cliche.  I thought you had a thousand friends.  They were all over the world, and you could stay with them, when you toured with your film festival.   Were you having sex with all of them?  Not sure.  Who

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