I could keep them like tallies. Unable to decipher the difference between conquests and lovers scorned.
Etched in the wall through scratches and burns. Some through passion, some betrayal. Some of nothing at all.
I could keep them like tallies, if only I could keep them.
I could plan their demise. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Occupying space in my mind without paying a cent. Evading your rent like you evade my messages.
Use, wash, rinse and repeat. My sex is on a spin cycle that rotates but never cleans. Do you want me when I’m dirty or only when I’m wet?Read More