My bed. I wonder what it dreamt of.

  Did it want to be filled with cuddling and love making and deep sleeps and hot sweats and ******* . late night movie laughter. jumping and fresh white linens  and syruped make up *** and early morning head and late night foot fights.

Did it dream of thousand count threaded sheets : silk pillows : cashmere throws : pendleton blankets : flannels for the fall.


Yeah, I bet this bed had great aspirations . it doesn't deserve this life.


two dogs and a lonely woman.

Remember when steamed windows and awkward angles and kissing and biting and not fitting in so many ways.
Remember.
Remember *******. sliding that ****** down like its the one thing in the world that makes this ok.              don't talk about it.
just meet in the band bathroom and i'll be on my tiptoes tap dancing in dehydrated **** and beer and whatever else you slobs dripped on the floor long, long ago.

It doesn't matter.

You hit that spot and I launched into outerspace.  Discovering a new color and seeing it in all its shades at the same time. Straddled up and perched just suckin like lips to a firecracker. bent over the sink.
                        I wanted it. so bad. .. . to be loved. To love myself.

I thought your **** could hammer that into me. I know better now but I still want to see all the new colors in space.
                       sometime.