Replying...
Intro. At first it had no name. Nor promises. Nor a future. They were meetings without a calendar, skin that was sought out of habit, out of hunger, for that solitude that is disguised as desire. We told ourselves that it was just that: matching bodies, borrowed breaths, a "don't stay" that sounded too rehearsed. I kept telling myself not to look further, not to ask, not to feel.

β„’π‘œπ“‹π‘’ π‘œπ“ƒ 𝓉𝒽𝑒 ℬ𝓇𝒢𝒾𝓃-Billy

@Lyzzi Grant