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"I am not a fighter.
My knuckles aren't bruised, but my heart is.
What does that make me?"* she asked tenderly,
"A girl in love", I replied.
I woke up suddenly.
As I felt weighing pair of eye staring at me.

It was yours.

"Why?" I asked.
"Nothing." You replied cooly.

I want to go back to sleep.
Yet I cannot.
For---
Your eyes, smoking.
Lust.
With your hair messy like that.
Shirt buttons come undone.
Revealing the body of my beautiful man.

My breathing shallowed.
Your smile shadowed.

Fighting the urge to touched you first.
I lost the battle with your next words.
"Make love to me."

I reached out.
Aimed for your lips.
Closer.
Closer.
Breathings harder.
Close-e-r-r-i-n-n-g-g-g-g

My alarm sounded.
It is morning.
Oh my.
Another helpless dream.
For the man who invaded my sleep by slipping into my dreams. Another sleepless night. (sigh)
One can not teach creativity,
but many can un-teach it.
Transcending all material objects; except pizza.
Difficult trying to see beauty, when insecurities constantly take over.
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