He doesn't eat pizza crust.
I never would have pegged him as the anti crust kind, but there it is...
He loves video games, seafood and his mother...its complicated.
He laughs every time I make my "you just smacked my butt and I am so shocked and turned on" noise.
He gets defensive at the slightest comments even when its obvious Its a joke and I wonder who conditioned him to be that way...
Sprinkles are life so pile them on his shit 'cause he is a grown-ass man...maybe just one more scoop.
I know he has seen things he shouldn't.
I know he has done more for me that another man wouldn't.
I know jack in the box is main bitch...
I know how sexy he is when he smokes the occasional cigarette.
I don't know what I will do wrong first; What I will say or do that will cross that line.
I know that I am limited and broke and that the last good decision I made was him.
I don't know when he will finally see that I am an empty cereal box comprised of thin cardboard, powdered crumbs and a temporary tattoo prize inside of a girl holding prickly risk in her hands and fear and longing and hope and jelly trust. this is the wieght of the world in her hands.
I know I have crushed beneath this wieght before.
I know that I am selfish.
I know that I am making movements and they are not cheap or as easily undone as I am.
I dont know if I trust myself.
I dont know where his fault lines are or if he is an earthquake or a volcano.
I dont know where this ride gets off or if it ever stops at all and I am twisting and turning, holding on and trusting this man and all I know is ...
he doesnt eat pizza crust.