You lay
yourself down
in sweet abandon
thinking I would
relish this gesture
of surrender.
But I know
deep inside
you're thinking
of something else.
Not someone,
mind you.
Something!
I know your minds
preoccupation with words.
Words. Words. Words.
You are making
a poem out of this.
Gottcha!
Frigid woman.
Let's stop this.
Bye.
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