Still Keeping it Classy

This is how lives separate. It’s as if each of us is a string, two strands that somehow become woven and tangled together, the way little girls like to practice braiding on stolen yarn from their mother’s sewing kit. But then that practice braid becomes forgotten. And slowly becomes to unravel. It doesn’t unravel all at once. No, it’s a slow, elegant process. Some part of myself is still tied up with him, but not as much. I wake up today and realize that I don’t miss him as much as I did a month ago, a week ago, a day ago. All we need is a slight tug—a kiss from a new crush, a flirtatious touch, a warm hug on a frigid day—to completely separate us. Two strings, separate once again, until we become part of another braid.

1: “Hey, what’s your favorite color?”

Boys with a tummy are beautiful

my body may be a temple but i am the god to whom it is devoted