Another Constant

by Kennedy B.

He was the color of fresh honey with tattoos all over from what I could see. The only place they were missing were his neck and face.

I’m laid back most of the time. I mean, until I lean forward. Nobody wants that, because then I’ll end up showing my ass at people’s establishments.”

“After I put this pussy in my mouth, it’s mine. You know that, right?” I didn’t know why I asked, because I didn’t care if she said no. I was claiming her and this pussy regardless.

wanted her to feel me like I felt her when I wasn’t inside of her. I felt Harlem on a level I didn’t intend, because deep down I knew she wasn’t what I was used to. Something in her would require more out of me.

This pussy felt like it was made for me, the way it seemed like seconds in it was trying to pull the nut out of me.

I had never been in sync with anybody or gave a shit about that soul ties bullshit folks spoke of, but with Harlem one night made me feel them all. In sync… Soul ties.. Shit… constant.

“Good. Now we got that out the way, the next time somebody asks if you got a man, tell his ass yeah and give him my name.”

“Shit, I don’t know. I’m ’bout my shit. You ever block me and I’ma send CashApp requests with unlimited notes. Sending a dollar a sentence.”

“Because I’m a killer, Harlem. You ever try to leave me alone, I’ma turn your ass into a professional speed dater. Every time you think you getting close to somebody, he’d wind up missing or miraculously dead. They're gonna think your ass is a serial killer with no proof.”

“Because you act like you don’t realize I’m your fucking home just like you mine.”