

VaseI made a pinhole camera today, in honour of your photographic skill, I wanted to create some sort of visual ode to you. I took some pictures of the garden, of me in the garden, of me naked on the bed. Too desperate to wait for an occupied toilet, I pissed in a vase and kicked it over while winding the film on. I let it sink into the carpet while I squatted above it, the pinhole on me. I could smell myself, heavy with sweat; my thighs were damp, shaking as I held myself up.Vase


ToothbrushI used your toothbrush again tonight; it felt strange in my mouth. I wish whole heartedly that you were hereToothbrush
to use it yourself.


DauntingThe bed is daunting. There is no one in it, just me. I moved your pillows onto the floor on my side; they smell of your breath, your face. I decide to sleep in the middle, to fill at least some of the space where you would be; it is easy to pretend that I have been sleeping alone for many months and that tonight is no different though your headless pillows taunt me. You have left your jumper on the back of one of my chairs; I put it on before I got into bed. You are much smaller than me, my breasts fill and stretch the fibres of wool, my breathing makes the yarn tense. I am afraid my smell will sink into it, so I take it off; sift out the worDaunting


.Mostly I wanted to wrap my arms around her, her face deep with sweat (it was branching down her cheeks, nestling in her eyebrows); her eyelids half shut, half open, from exhaustion or boredom; her mouth slow amongst the speed of her breath (in, out, in out, like a crude joke). I wanted to incarcerate her head in the heat of my limbs, damp and exercised at my chest, tangled. I am sweating too; I have not moved. I have been sitting, my skirt lifted to expose my buttocks to the public plastic of a spectators chair, a bus seat, a bench. I am good at this, it is about all I am good at it. Applaud me..

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I read once about a woman whose secret fantasy was to have an affair with an artist. She thought he would really see her. He would see every curve, every line, every indentation and love them because they were part of the beauty that made her unique.
i'm not sure what DAmn is though!
but thank you very much!
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I read once about a woman whose secret fantasy was to have an affair with an artist. She thought he would really see her. He would see every curve, every line, every indentation and love them because they were part of the beauty that made her unique.
well thanks again!
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xo!
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an antique arms and armor expert
xo!
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an antique arms and armor expert
I got here by clicking the Random Deviant button. Enjoy dA.
Poor Kayla.
Cheers.
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Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
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