"She did not think his chest a well.
Did not wish to cast him, to armor his organs.
No heart toll.
No love tax.
She was not a poet,
found no beauty in the way his hips
jingled when they made love.
It was a necessity. The only way she knew to make a man stay.
Love. What worthless currency."
Megan Thoma, excerpt from Weight (via holdonmagnolia)
(via holdonmagnolia)
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