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Little One
Little One Artfully contrived, the seemingly casual clothes her makeup just teasingly this side of too much her fingernails too pale, and short, little-like, her voice reduced to a breathless tone "You do like me, I know you do." "How could I not like you?" "And I know you like to do it. I know." "I do. Very much. But not with you." "But why?" almost plaintive, the pain slips through A discussion rehashed and rehearsed No less painful for its repetition I look at your lovely all to well displayed legs. How can I tell you? I feel the perfect symbiosis when you lie in my arms, on the rocking chair, your cute tush firm against my thigh You settle into the solace I offer and my role is complete and entire I cradle/caress all that you are and see the crayons on the floor. I do not wish to speak of the fear I do not wish to know its shadow the hope/dream of perfection may shatter to a bitter sadness were we ever to ask for more. ................................. |
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