I like wearing a white tank top to bed cause I imagine that its yours. That we just hooked up and you have given me a shirt to wear. And we cuddle in your bed, with the feel of your hands on my back. And in the morning I keep it on and throw my sweatshirt over the top. And when I leave you kiss my forehead, my head nuzzling you, gently kissing the parts of your chest that are exposed through your open sweatshirt. It smelled like cigarettes and weed.
I'm getting ahead of myself. You don't even want me.
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