purr poetre

Yikes. You walk all the way from the mountains to the village to the city to your own bed where he says he fucks you hard
and then a therapist and a coffee café and another guy and some French and some toast and a shard

And then you come back to the room to the bed your parents got for you and a can of milk, a laptop brand new and you say
You cannot write?

What else do you want! — a life?