Summer(s) in the South
I do believe I could eat myself a tomato sandwich twice a day, every day, if the maters were vine-ripe and near-bursting (because all that damn flavor is near-dying to get out from under that skin) all year ’round like they are in June and July.
And you? The you I got off the phone with around twelve ay emm Eastern?
Go fuck yourself. Come back when you’re satisfied with doing so and have cleaned up sufficiently to merit my attention. I remembered tonight why I made myself –absolutely FORCED, with a great deal of EFFORT and DEDICATION– hate you for a minimum of seven years before deciding that it was every bit as exhausting as loving you to the end of the ends: You deserved it.







2 worked it out »