My heart never rushes when I'm with him.
It never even did when he touched my hair. He stroke my hair and made me look in the mirror. He was loving my hair. He was not loving me. I am aware of our animal attraction for each other and I hope we will remain friends. We're not even lovers, we're lonely and needy. Both in the same sack. It's easy and very nice, but not satisfactory. His sweat is sour, just as my thoughts are. I like his smell, but he pretends I don't have one.
George and I are part-time lovers, waiting for someone better to come.
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