he's an easy lover.
same old story but it's one of my favorites. lying facedown on your bed. it takes me a minute to catch my breath. you lean over and open the window and the coolness of the rain blows in over us. this is the best part, when you drape your arms around my sticky curves, nuzzle your nose into my neck, and fall asleep. i can feel your heart beating out of your chest. there will be none of that was-that-good-or-what shit. we've been learning each other's bodies since i was a teenager, it's perfect way beyond that. instead we just try to make each other laugh. the only other thing we know how to do. nothing too serious. it's easier this way. i'm an idiot for idolizing you, for the way you opened my eyes, for the things you've showed me, both bad and good, for your edge and your latent potential; you can't decide whether to resent or adore me for my starry-eyed optimism. little by little, i allow you to chip away at that naivete. we both know that. it doesn't need to be said. magnetic forces that can't be blocked. plus i know i'm fifty times doper than the suburban chickens you run around with, and you seem to be under the impression that i only fuck with skinny ass scene boys. i let you think that because i know it makes you feel like a rebel, or at least like i'm a conquest. once you told me i'm stronger than i give myself credit for. i laughed and said, why the fuck am i here then? you responded the way you always do. by fucking me. and yes, that was the only correct answer. when i dip in the morning i'm still high from the receding nearness of you. your smell is all over me. sex, dank weed, clean laundry. i wash it off as soon as i get home and try not to think about how i still want it even though i just fucking had it.