I’m Afraid Of What’s Real And What’s A Delusion.

My type is him. His style catches my eye. His body type is my is my favorite for it’s attached to his face. He’s sweet like blackberries covered in  thorns to protect him from the ones that treat him like a genie. He’s a special human to me.

My type is her. My favorite body type is whatever her body looks like that day. My favorite scent, whatever she got on.

Nowadays telling someone how you feel really be useless

Spoon me.

Listening to the wind in this storm. Expecting possible power outage.

Gliding along your back.

“His Signature.”

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