I loved the uniqueness and absolute intelligence of this story, I just had to reblog. I hope y’all will appreciate it as much as I do.
Why did you cut your hair?
What am I going to run my hands through?
I didn’t let my hair groow out for you. You’ll be fine. Get here first.
What are you doing?
It’s 9.21pm and by now, it’s easy to tell that I do not have good intentions towards your body. This silk Hermes scarf that reminds me of Paris, is fit for your right hand. What are you doing? Is the question you ask when I secure your right wrist. You know. I don’t know why you bother with being coy. Lyon is the orange scarf that secures your left wrist. Marseille is the scarf that holds your left leg. My eyes trace the distance between the two of them. 2 hours and a bit by train. 10 minutes by slow, deliberate kisses from the crook of your arm, via your sides through your waist, right…
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