Saturday, August 13, 2016

At Risk

I hate writing
about your eyes.

Your harem probably
already has, penning

clichés about your
intensity. I lust.

I look away.
I can't handle

players. I can't
handle the way

you're most likely
going conquistador, cutting

me open. Your
laugh boasts behind

closed doors, mocking
my damn weakness,

my absolute inability
to walk out.

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