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.
βπππ ππ ππ½π β¬ππΆπΎπ-Billy
@Lyzzi Grant
βπππ ππ ππ½π β¬ππΆπΎπ-Billy
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.
βπππ ππ ππ½π β¬ππΆπΎπ-Billy
@Lyzzi Grant
βπππ ππ ππ½π β¬ππΆπΎπ-Billy