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I’d call her sweet thing and I wouldn’t quite have the heart to put my feet up on her with my shoes still on.

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Sometimes, I want to feel a little more overtly useful.

mystery-bazaar:

Occasional Table

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cabinetofdesire:

The mask is mockery. They all know who she is.

And now they all know what she is.

Squirm.

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Sweetheart’s vocabulary word that day was “dram.” And Daddy knows sweetheart’s a visual leaner.

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Tonight was just practice. At the real event, she’ll be trading the comfort of the mattress for the hard, unforgiving wood of a dinner table.

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See, I’d want to be something like this for you.

But I’d need the reassurance that you would stroke my hair every so often after you put your drink down.

I don’t want to just be a table. I want to be your table. The best fucking table you could have. Even if and when I mess up.

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Confessedly, I get serious porno brain whenever my yoga instructor says she wants us all to get our backs level so she can “put a glass of wine on it”.

Whoops.