We're putting love in the bank. She may leave me. I may leave her. I may fuck it up with some little thing.
She may cuckold me. She may bite off my balls. She may gnaw them off slowly over days like a rodent.
She may tell me it's my baby then it comes out black.
She my break my sobriety, make me drink. She may make he hate her so much that I write clenched agitated loser things about her.
Fake things I don't feel to hurt her, making me a liar out of pain. Permanently castrating me as a writer and man.
All that is true. But we're putting love in the bank.
I met her 7 years ago. At the duck pond. She asked why I was typing like a maniac. I look through my phone. 7 years I've been screen capping her Instagram.
We'd lay in bed with the mockingbirds going. She thought I was great. I thought she was beautiful.
She may leave me. It may be another 7 years.
But I opened a box. And the old love is still there.
It's curled up with the new love, and just waking up.
🔥