We Hate This City.

Photographer.

I bury my head in grammar.
A double bed which is utter luxury after the basement in Chelsea.
Kisses which I will miss. Deep and feeling and full of love.
I run through his curly hair. Hair wax that smells like herbal tea.
He touches my shaved head in the same way you’d touch a cat.
I melt into him. His strong chest which makes me Scarlett O’Hara.
Stomach and arms and silk.
His skin is always so warm and I want to surround myself with him.
I could drown in his sweat. I could drown in his skin.
I could wrap his hair around my body and live on for ever happy.
Side by side by side by side for ever by your side.
Hips grinding together I want to swallow in his love.
The City of Brighton is on fire.

-Dagger.