make like a tree & fuck off

the leaner i get, the softer i reveal my
self to be. met a woman who was a
new jersey ghost of my former
self, though i was never quite
That harsh. she spent the mixer
talking about her self, how
men in LA are “too soft” and that her
last lover left due to her sharp
edges. myself, i find the men here
a momentary reprieve from war. in another
life, i was tightly spooled, perpetually
having to have been at my destination
ten minutes ago. and nowadays,
i do not require that level
of armour, so brassy and self-isolating. i
can exhale. drop my shoulders. i am still
bold, i am still assertive and
cocksure, but with far
softer edges than before.

wouldn’t his words make you wish
to sheath those edges, i asked— just
a skosh? to evolve?

her whole aura frowned. she
did Not agree. (still got it, V.)

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