Dear Lover,
Sometimes I forget to shave, life gets in the way of living, and I never mean to neglect you. Sometimes you neglect me. You wonder why you never see me dressed like sex or the way my ass sits when I’m twirling in my fuck-me heels. Sometimes you neglect me. Sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes I want to go out and live our love beneath the flashing lights.
Of course I love swaying with you in the kitchen, a bottle of Yellowtail in hand, and the other hand de-flouring our chicken. Sometimes I want to go out and dress like sex, flaunting our love like flowers’ pollen dusting a quiet air. Sometimes I want our love to parade in candlelit restaurants and strawberry lemonade and my pedicure beneath a cloaked table playing with the softer side of your knee. Sometimes I want other people to know that you love me.