I can’t do this dreaming anymore. I can’t dream that you buy me dinner and fixate collars around my neck and come to my apartment.
It’s like I am heartbroken in a horribly unconventional way. I should be used to this by now, but I’m not. Every time it happens I am sure he won’t come back. And third time is the charm, right? I am living a double life, and in this separate universe I have created, he is my sun and my moon. My daddy.
Daddy is gone for good this time.
I post an ad on craigslist, but no one can replace him. Myself nor anyone else can ever replicate or even imitate the kind of odd bond we had.
I branded myself to him.
would it be crazy if i travelled twenty-seven hours west and walked every street of that small town you’re trapped in until i found you and fucked you up against a wall