but the time i thought this was it wasn’t then it was during a **** nap and this one i loved was having a good nap her hair under the noisy fan kept brushing at my face but i didn’t move now it is a fading memory and i still don’t move
ruffle my hair, i miss being touched, caressed. not callously although that felt good too when there was none i selfishly yearn for you to be selfish about me because what if selfless love does not obsess you enough i desire not the selfless love that in its selflessness is willing to let go possess me kindly unkindly
forgive how i drape my existence with a contradictory me both, both are me pleading
you know what is a good condiment for morbid existentialism? being a giver of unrequitable love.