realism when all I can ask of life is please don’t let the air conditioner stop workingMature

I don’t mind that I burned the omelette I made for your breakfast; I don’t mind that the macaroni and cheese I made for dinner is uninspired;
I don’t mind that the sun burned through our walls and toasted our skins and made us sweat, sitting like sculptures in front of the oscillating fan, desperate just to breathe air a few degrees cooler than our bodies;
because I’ve gotten to kiss you on the mouth and when I woke up this morning it was your body curled against mine like tree roots twisting around each other.

The End

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