When I am like this, bottom raised in the air, my face turned into her pillow,
my curves and warm flesh become something desirable. Something responsive to her
touch, her percussive hand. Something that takes on a pinkness she finds so
pleasing as she tours my body. Those margins I spend enormous time patrolling,
surveying- hating – become hers to navigate. To own.
"I'm relieving you
of your duty", she says, as her hand comes.
I am unkind to her
love.
She will NOT have it.
Her crisp tone softens. She kisses my
shoulder.
"When will you see what I see?"
****
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