My sometime imaginary lover, he rocks me on the violin. He calls me baby for hours, drawing out the word endlessly; playing on a libido already aching for lazy summertime lovemaking. And he makes poetry of chocolate, of little sisters, of circus magic and cigarettes while I only half-listen, and smile.

* Written while listening to Baby by Rufus Wainwright

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The real truth is, I probably don't want to be too happy or content. Because, then what? I actually like the quest, the search. That's the fun. The more lost you are, the more you have to look forward to. What do you know? I'm having a great time and I don't even know it. - Ally McBeal

5 thoughts on “Rufus”

  1. Just like my baby, she too half listens and smile (laugh), when I try to seduce her with my crooning with a chocolate between my lips, while she is trying to watch Coco Chanel.
    Man this is a sweaty summer, and you are marvelous.
    Which scent do you prefer on men, Allure or Égoïste?

  2. Yep (who else could it be with those grammatical errors) and I will be giving up Armani which I wore for all adult life, all five years of it and start wearing Égoïste, she thinks it fits my personality, perfectly :) I prefer Allure though.

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