the girl doesn’t like to compromise.
she likes to sip mauy tais while staring at guys and watching movies waddle across the television screen. the girl likes to tell the truth but is more comfortable with lies.
she kissed one of her boyfriends in secret because of his blue eyes, her girlfriend in secret because of her second pair of lips, and man that she carnally desired behind closed doors because of the extension between his hips, while
still touching finger tips with her girlfriend. Sometimes she wished that they were all just friends. The guys and the girl… and the other guys that are not mentioned. She wishes that she could sit in an apartment alone, while her girl and those guys pendulum closely by, and she can experience large landscapes from her bedroom window.
the girl wrote stories where women negotiated sex. where they undressed for lovers like those clothes were worn to be unbuttoned, unzipped, untied and undone. the girl wrote adventures that only characters can know, she scribbled in secrets that she, herself, could never share. her stories collect her feelings and retells them.
her stories were her compromise.
