“I never loved someone like that. I never loved the joker.” My spouse and I were lying in bed, and I was talking about the man I loved who came and went, the painful house guest. Thinking of that small sound he made, the “uh, uh” in a rap song. I was crying about what
“Your arm is so pretty,” I said, admiring its muscles and smoothness, his beautiful light brown skin. “If I was so pretty as you, I would just lie in bed and masturbate…all day!” We shared a smile about that. I get confused, sometimes. My friend built a staircase-porch so beautiful; I told him–if I could