I pride myself on having a strong bladder but what do you do when your uber doesn’t stop? I was too embarrassed to confess, my hands were so sweaty I was slipping texts that I shouldn’t have. I was already passed hello. I was sweat on your ego. Fuck the fucking. I was the libido. I’m everything I seem to be though I’m not what any one wants. I’m still going to flaunt my breast like they’re used in antidepressants. I call myself a blessing without the negligence. I’m the essence of hemorrhages and descendants. Peasant, please. I’m grilled cheese with crispy crust. I’m lustful eyes that’ll make your pupils bust. All over me. I’m pretty, I know that. In fact, I’m gorgeous. You know how sore intimacy can be? No. Cause you’ve never been with a thought like me.