You’d kiss me at the front door — lips cold from a few blocks walk with San Francisco wind, your cigarette boy sweater lingering on your shoulders. I have to wonder now, how many times did you fuck me right after? How many times did you throw pillows on my floor like plates meant to break afterwards? Right after you addressed her emotional bids? Her tears? With one of your “infamous pep talks”? How many of your ‘I love you’s were straddled between messages to her, affirming your ex-girlfriend’s needs through
Read MoreAs I was out a restaurant for dinner the other night, a couple sat down to a table directly to the right of where we were sitting. From the moment they sat down, the guy was on his phone and literally didn’t proceed to look at his date once. When I looked at the girl that he was with, I noticed that she had seemed to be sad and had a defeated look about her. Being an outsider to their relationship, I had found myself feeling quite bad for her.
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