It’s Not You, It’s Me…Or Maybe It’s Not | Word & Sole
It’s not you, it’s me. I think, as I watch the wind blow slits of sunlight through the big pine tree in my backyard. You love me in all the right ways: the hand-holding, the forehead kisses, the tenderness, the love that fills me. But you suck at all the other boy things, like taking me on dates or cleaning your room.
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