It all comes down to who you are and how far you can arch your back. Back here again whining over my lollipop, but now you know, I am not replying to your fake cries, because you did not hold my hand firm enough, you forgot to buy cigarettes, you only promised to love me once.

Now, I can see my nails through my sunglasses, my long fingers holding my ankles holding your cock. it is sunny and I never thought I would hate you but I do. I am here, now, arched back, without any thoughts in my mind. Or rather, I am thinking whether my back is curved enough, whether I can arch it further and back, whether I can tell you what I think without you knowing. I loved it. That first time, our 26 hour first date. You took me to all these galleries, to look at the view. You held my fingertips and I licked yours. 

“Come.  Give me a kiss," you'd said.

I saw your pants sticking to your crotch, your big and tender crotch which took the shape of a landscape with hills and landforms, every time you bent down.

“I want you," you'd said.

Silence. An overload that makes me more distant.

“Fuck slut.” 

And I say, being shy first but then not shy at all, but at all, I say oh yes baby, yes, that's it, just fuck me, just go like this. Ambivalent, is that big cock of yours so ambivalent? Never thought of you in those terms. 

But you are still at work, and I am alone in my room arched backwards waiting for you. I have placed a kiss in between my two velvet handkerchieves. I am a chevalier, you see, waiting for you.

Oh yes I am waiting for you.  I love waiting for you to finish work and come and fuck me, you son of a bitch, you mother fucker, you just come from work and fuck me and make me go lie on the floor.