It’s Friday and where are you. I have gotten back in off of this bad evening of flirting with things that are not as lovely, or as real as you. You don’t believe me. I am all evil to you. The center cannot hold. I don’t ask you to live here again. I don’t ask anything. I just wish. Wish that the crook of your hips was mating with mine tonight. That you would push that way. That we could claim things in strange languages to one another.
I would like to awake in the morning and go to Publix and buy cold cuts and make a you a fucking sandwich. That would be a dream, but my Saturday won’t have that. Not any more.
I loved you through those cold cuts. I loved you through my meanness. I am sorry about that. I collected 4 leaf clovers for you. I am here.
I have no other dreams. Just that you will say you love me, let’s try again. I wanted to/ and still want to marry you, G. I have never been so sure in my life.
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