Our quiet dispositions made for a double-edged sword, as we sat on blood-stained sheets, littered with stems and shredded tobacco bits.
Listening to "Blowing It" by Dinosaur Jr. I realized I, too, didn't know a thing to say to you. We seemed similar, in a way to a certain extent.
He had a stick and poke on his thigh that said "NO"
and we ****** Casually.
========================================================================
"I think you're cute and I like that you're tall."
"I think you're cute too and it's nice that you like that."
========================================================================
We smoked spliffs and talked about how it was nice to be dating multiple people.
And what it's like to have a sugar mama,
And that crack is an underrated drug,
And that I should meet more people who like The Velvet Underground,
And how we both like beer, IPAs,
And how I smelled nice,
And how I shouldn't have chosen "Women" of Bukowski's to read first,
And that he should read "Slaughterhouse-Five", and I was willing to give him my copy
(The blood on my sheets wasn't mine, he had skinned knees.)
It was odd, but also nice, to meet someone with a similar disposition to me,
but there was nothing incendiary to hang on to, more just a slow warmth.
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 2:27 PM UTC
Our quiet dispositions made for a double-edged sword, as we sat on blood-stained sheets, littered with stems and shredded tobacco bits.
Listening to "Blowing It" by Dinosaur Jr. I realized I, too, didn't know a thing to say to you. We seemed similar, in a way to a certain extent.
He had a stick and poke on his thigh that said "NO"
and we ****** Casually.
========================================================================
"I think you're cute and I like that you're tall."
"I think you're cute too and it's nice that you like that."
========================================================================
We smoked spliffs and talked about how it was nice to be dating multiple people.
And what it's like to have a sugar mama,
And that crack is an underrated drug,
And that I should meet more people who like The Velvet Underground,
And how we both like beer, IPAs,
And how I smelled nice,
And how I shouldn't have chosen "Women" of Bukowski's to read first,
And that he should read "Slaughterhouse-Five", and I was willing to give him my copy
(The blood on my sheets wasn't mine, he had skinned knees.)
It was odd, but also nice, to meet someone with a similar disposition to me,
but there was nothing incendiary to hang on to, more just a slow warmth.
I'll text him, maybe, when I get a phone again.
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