- Erotic Poetry
- Butterfly Cut
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I need more time to think. The fest has passed and I'm thinking back to when things made sense. Orders and obeys are easy. If there's a prison with him in it, I want to see his face. Keep screaming. I started a joke and spun the world around with my hips and curves. Too many coincidences for this not to be what it is. I picked up another voice. He made me cry. My reputation is at steak level. Medium rare, butterfly cut with thin shoestring fries, friend. We passed up Houston's and went to Chili's. Here's the deal. Wade's back and tried to sell me a car with a body in the trunk. Wedding bells are ringing and they ain't skert. I'm leaving town.
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