Meat hooks

I wanted to be seen with you, until you finally agreed to do it and now, I just want to be naked with you, at home all of the time instead.
Interesting, I know.
Not because I’d be embarrassed or you would be but because I don’t want to share you.
I want you to wear a hijab or a burka or both so nobody else can see how beautiful you are, like Muslim women do, sir.
Because I am clearly obsessed, everything that you put in your mouth and leave at my place from now on I am going to stuff with loot.
You should always do something productive with your feelings.
I’m trying to control them and not let them control me.
Money is a tool to be used. It has no other value.
When I feel mushy like I do right now, I remember all that you want or all that you need from me and listen to the coins drop and clink into an empty Cherry Coke bottle that you had or a plastic Arby’s cup that you used.
It provides prospective so that I don’t go too far over the edge.

But I’m so gone already, baby.

Whatever, It’s dumb, I know but you’re the only thing in my environment that I cannot control. The pull is so magnetic.
I don’t know how to be around you, I can’t lie,

You stop my ability to lie.

I act goofy, unsure, weird, spastic and it’s terrifying and freeing and I feel guilty and too open.
I hate it because I love it so much.

Its so pure and so rare.
I have everything planned in my life, to the letter, sir, always and with you, no plan ever works.
Ever.
It’s so fucking epic.
I’m in awe.

I’m so sorry.

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