He liked my clothes,
When I pushed them to the ground.
He liked the smell of the night,
The darkest skin on the tips of my fingernails.
He liked the body—or probably me—
And he never cried when I touched the ground.
I knew I had met a man,
And somehow, he could've been softer,
if only he could hold my hand.
He said it didn't matter,
To live together,
With no strings attached.
He could be all over me,
No longer saying he loved me
Exactly
No strings attached
Jun 20, 2025
Jun 20, 2025 at 6:15 PM UTC
He liked my clothes,
When I pushed them to the ground.
He liked the smell of the night,
The darkest skin on the tips of my fingernails.
He liked the body—or probably me—
And he never cried when I touched the ground.
I knew I had met a man,
And somehow, he could've been softer,
if only he could hold my hand.
He said it didn't matter,
To live together,
With no strings attached.
He could be all over me,
No longer saying he loved me
Exactly
No strings attached
