He wants me all the time.
Tied up messy bun, old t-shirts, sweat pants, and kitty cat slippers – sexy as a mother.
I fry the bacon in this kingdom, and he’s my butt-grabbin’ king.
30 looks good on him.
He’s got the gift of bad dad jokes and I’ve got the curse of curves.
It works.
I don’t move like I did at age 23, probably never will again.
My goods sag a little lower now, but they still look good to him.
He saws logs when he sleeps and I’m verbally aggressive in mine.
But we go together.
And he wants me all the time.
Wallflower Writing 