The number never asked for any of this; it was simply the messenger of information.

The leather jacket, the aviators, the acoustic guitar, tight ass-squeezing denim, the dangling cross earring.

We danced and fucked in the shadows for so long.

Buffy Summers taught me how to be brave.

This one’s a love letter to my littermates left in limbo.

Just because it’s happening behind closed doors, doesn’t mean it’s shameful.

Shame has an origin point.

None of them started on a dating app

Stop asking “Where do I start?”, and just start.

We don’t ask someone to justify their hunger for food, but we ask them to justify their hunger for touch.