I undo buttons.




I undo buttons like he undoes my heart.

Things are heavy for me, like the last long pillars of shadows at the end of a day.

Despite my happiness, I can’t shake the sense that things are always ending.




Is this a curse?  Is it real?

I need him under those buttons, large and veiny, throbbing.

I need him in my heart, guarded and distant.

I need him in me, gentle and loving.

I need some fucking space.
Sinful Sunday

A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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31 thoughts on “I undo buttons.
  1. Those are charming, delightful buttons. And I know the feeling–I am well aware that everything that exists is automatically also ending, but sometimes the consciousness of that can be kind of a weighty buzz-kill.

  2. I tend to hate endings…usually it’s the very best things that seem to end…but what I’m starting to realize is not that they’re ending, but changing…maybe you’re feeling angst and conflicted because you can sense change…it’s possible the change could be good, instead of bad, though…right?

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