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Jan 2021
subtle dancing to Erik Satie
dancing that isn't dancing at all
I exist much bigger for you
I squeeze your head
warm familiar liquid seeps out
your head scrunched, peaceful despair
I pour myself into you again
screaming death as you mold me like clay
a kiss goodnight
you hold me
running your fingers all over your creation
This is about being a muse, particularly for an older man.
claire
Written by
claire  19/F/Portland Oregon
(19/F/Portland Oregon)   
334
   Bogdan Dragos
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