The exception that proves the rule. A blog of short writings from Australia and England.
Thursday, 12 November 2015
When I'm inside you and calling you vile things and pretending I don't like you, I wish you'd hold me tightly instead of trying to push me away. I know it's a lot to ask but I wish you could find something nice to say. The splaying of legs, the pantomime we act out on beds. Every single word I've ever uttered to you besides "I love you", I regret. Those were the only three words that ever needed to be said.