feeling ABBA

 

 

 
 

 

I don’t get jealous.
Even if I can imagine him with other women.
 
 
Long arms hooked around him from under his shoulders. Soft whisperings of the "ya." and " ya." between them. Some laughter and mundane conversation. Supportive words and good nights.
I don’t get jealous.
It tugs at my heart plenty, but that’s life & my life has been a brimful of pig shit, in so many ways.
What is it in Tagalog? tae ng baboy.
Wuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-Hah. Ang pangit.
I’m still alive and this is supposed to be the good part?
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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