N. Likes

In which I, maybe?, get caught stealing an unwelcome glance.

A suspension of paeans, and a replacement of them with wisdom from others.

Sometimes, I imagine I’m invisible, silent, unnoticed. Sometimes, I’m wrong.

What shame is to me.

Cleo doing work for me.

The carrot is the stick.

Brooklyn stretches with me. And, she comes for me. For us.

I’m writing again!

What’s hot to me?

Cleo is tiny, brunette, smart, and knows — intuitively — how to submit without losing herself in the process.