At one month:
You’re extremely beautiful, just my type.
At three months:
Take your clothes off.
At Five months:
No, I do like to cuddle, with you.
At Ten months:
Take off your clothes.
At a year and a half:
Thank you.
At month 20:
Clothes, really?
At twenty two months:
No, go ahead, you can have mine.
Fast forward, Fast, Faster, Fastest
At 5 years:
What are you wearing?
At 63 months:
You’re too old to wear that!
At 69 months:
Shut up, its not that serious.
At 7 years:
Are you wearing that?
At 7 and a half years:
I wasn’t listening to you, was it important?
At 88 months:
Grow a pair of balls, and stop crying!
At 8 years:
You’re a fat bitch.
For The VERSE: If these words left a bruise, you can find the complete collection of raw, dark poetry and psychological suspense right here, sweetcheeks:Click to explore
For SOMETHING WORSE: Enter my mind’s sticky labyrinth. Read full length dark dystopian raw stories and such by clicking the link, toots.Click to Scoop

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