disclaimer: i'm queer & i like sexy hands.
dear keiko,
you're like a book. i read you, but i can't fathom you. i feel you, but i know nothing of you. your words, while explicit, are confusingly implicit. your pages seem to skim on the surface, but they go down to an unnatural depth sometimes and i feel lost. i get lost in your pages. and i still don't know if that's a good thing. i read you, over and over and over again, hoping that one day i could get to the bottom of it all. but the deeper i go, the less i find. i wonder if there's much more of you on the surface or below it.
i wished you were an empty book. because you seem to tell so much without telling anything at all. and i ca
We’ve updated our privacy policy so that we are compliant with changing global privacy regulations and to provide you with insight into the limited ways in which we use your data.
You can read the details below. By accepting, you agree to the updated privacy policy.
