We crossed paths, so to speak.
So Yes, my dear, we fucked,
On several occasions to be precise.
What do you know about sex that I didn't teach you?
Nothing, my dearest.
I was your fucking muse, literally.
In reality you were a terrible lay, always calling late.
Bringing up my faults, leaving the door open, and most of all telling me how much you know about my body.
Well here's a bit of fucking news for you, I sleep at night, yes that's right, so don't fucking call when the lights are out at my place.
I know my faults, I know them well, so don't go judging me for what I have done when what makes you a whore is what you -haven't- done.
And shut the fucking door for once in your fucking life, what am I? a Library that you can take information from and hand it back later, abused and exploited?
But what pisses me off the most is how you claimed to be so intimate with me, just because I taught you about life and love it doesn't mean you know anything about my physiological design, I'm not unique but I'm not the original flavor either. So don't go ordering another 'Christopher' at the club because I doubt you'll find one in this lifetime, love. |
Submission Name: Uh oh. . .
