Don’t tell me your sex stories
with flowers,
because I know that it’s bullshit.
Tell me what it was like
that one time
you both got drunk
and she burped in your mouth
after she took off her shirt,
but you kissed her anyway
so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed.
Tell me how you tried
and tried
and tried
a few times
to get your pants off,
but you eventually gave up and just
wore them around your ankles
so that you could hurry back to her.
Tell me that you would fuck her
even though neither
you
nor her
are flowers.
Because you’re not.
And that’s ok.
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