You saw the journal, you were warned.

I was up one stair,
the height difference compensated for
I figured I might as well,
kiss you and all.

Let’s get out of here.
If you take me home I’ll go down on you.
Nice try, and not the first time
a guy has used that line on me.

Maybe I give off a certain energy,
Maybe you all think I taste sweet?
I’m awfully vanilla, but
l hope it’s crafted with the expertise
only a pastry chef could manage.

You’re bringing back memories of Brooklyn,
and the bar hounds I used to know.
7 years away, I’m out of practice.
Same lines, different accent.
Dogs, all of you, really.
Puppies, lately.
Here boy, come play.

You can walk me home
but you can’t come in.

You can show me the sunset
and bring me a box of chocolates.

We can sit by the water
while you drink gin & tonic.

You’re allowed a certain amount of me,
the pleasure of my company.
A handful of skin, or two.
But, I’m not here to heal you,
not your manic pixie dream girl.
I have my own story.
I’ve been known to kiss and tell.

Give me validation.

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