Non-Erotic PoetryJoy! Division.He was hard; I lied to him that night. Two lies. My stomach churned as he wept. Felt like being shanked in the side. Felt like forging my mother's name on a report card or filling the lawnmower gas tank with sand. Remember, all we talked about was him. Like a love transfusion. Or a conduit bred at Roissy.
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