I remember your perfect porcelain skin being kissed by the gentle rays of the sun through the drawn blinds your tiny frame seeming so delicate and dainty compared to my massive blob of a figure you said you felt pretty i said you looked celestial you snickered as if you were smart enough to not believe a word that came from my mouth you should've and you shouldnt have Its just arbitrary banter but still some part of me believes i meant it i still had not came although we had been fucking mindlessly fucking like two cats in heat for hours and i seemed insatiable you laid satisfied and exhausted rubbing my oversized flabby body worshipping me but only for that moment it seemed that everything in that room was exactly as it should have been for that one moment as it had previously countless times felt but it was only in the room and the extension of the shower that we seemed compatible every where else you seemed dodgy and me invulnerable when we were apart it seemed you didnt exist but whenever we were together it was a maelstrom of coitus and compliments it started to run me thin pondering the true nature of our relationship or lack there of
When i inquired as to why we didnt do anything except have sex it was revealed that youd been dating some talentless hack some poor fool who believed that the relationship that was shared was pure serendipity that as a unit the powers of love that held you two together this masquerade of being soul mates while in the meantime using some piece of shit to stuff the vast cavern that is your vagina to get your rocks off
Repulsed and enticed me simatainiously on one hand the deceit seemed off-putting your unavailability seemed over whelmingley attractive so i guess we forgave and forgot
It’s forgettable- the number of times I was called a “fucking faggot” as a kid. As a former child of god, I wasn’t expected to know what those words meant. I was taught that repentance was vital to achieving everlasting life. My momma made me go to church every Sunday. I said my prayers as I was told. But I eventually learned that Catholicism was never my sanctuary. Christianity was never my safe-haven. God never stopped the cheap shots. He never once prevented the harassment or pure embarrassment that I felt from the words of my “kin in Christ.” Now, picture me- a helpless faggot, blinded by the incandescent lights of an old catholic church. I was home from college spending Spring Break in my former hellscape. So, naturally, my momma yet again made me go to church. This time, on a Wednesday. It was Ash Wednesday. When I was among the folks from home, I felt out of place. So much that I’d imagine camouflaging myself. Like saber-tooth in hiding. But the difference? I had a far mo...
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