Bringing it Back Together

I wonder, most times, if I’m the kind of woman you’d fuck without first taking off all your clothes. If you’d fuck me, even though you wouldn’t kiss me full on the mouth. If I’m that woman you’d call late at night – when you’re drunk or desperate or both. When there isn’t anyone else. Even if you don’t love me. Even after you’ve said as much.

And what makes me that way? The late night faceless conduit to satisfaction rather than the emotional or intellectual bridge to the same. There has to be someone out there who will not define me and my worth only by my sexuality.