Feb 18
What you tell me about in the nights. That is not love. That is only passion and lust. When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve.
— Ernest Hemingway- A Farewell to Arms (via divhaniv)
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Feb 18
Ream of Margaret: It Starts in the Kitchen →
This poem was written in answer to comelycreature’s request to write about the last person with whom I slept.
It starts in the kitchen.
Shrimp, rice, and provocative poses.
You lean into his counter, over some stained papers.
Slide your body back and forth.
Wait for the…
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