Intimacy without fucking
Sep 2, 2018 · 1 min read
We’re drunk and he asks me to read
him poetry
I choose Bukowski, my favorite
And he strokes my hair while I read
About the pleasures of the damned
We fall asleep holding hands
We’re drunk and he asks me to read
him poetry
I choose Bukowski, my favorite
And he strokes my hair while I read
About the pleasures of the damned
We fall asleep holding hands