come home. you know you can’t rome without ceasar. the year of kanye wests GRADUATION. I was in spain and had a fatal summer crush. Ismaél Corta. in my few share of men he was def one of the.. ugh, havent figured out what the fuck he was.
Tanned, tall, darker eyes than most, dimples and scars on his left eye that ended on his chest. that alone should have been sign for me to fkn run as fast i can from him. hehe. Not the prettiest guy on the block, but i like my men who aint afraid to get their hands dirty. he used to pick me up on jet-ski and we would ride around for hours. endless and countless stories about he used to push drugs from water to water. his endless admiration for scarface and captain jack sparrow (?). Late nights escapades down to the garage where he would be waiting in his car. sneaking back home 9am in the morning and getting love poetry sent only after 6 min we said good bye. After the third date he said to me ”when we get married, my mom is going to live with us!”. The sea was big, but it never seemed big enough for him. His mom used to circle around us with her jet-ski, not saying a god damn word. Blonde pony tail wig and a ugly ass scrunchie, and a belly that spoke power. She was in the drug game too, some type of queen b. I could actually see her story by just looking at her – she was not to be fucked with. And i saw myself married with him… and her. and all her fuckin issues.
Of course i wasn’t about to get married with this guy, but i sure was about to see how far it would go. 48 days.