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Kiss me.
You are my woman.
Fearless, ****, ruled by Saturn.
My muse.
Fiery and timorous.
Hair of a lion, lips that sooth my body and soul.
Natural, scorching beauty and a mind like a whip.
A goddess to be touched with the love.
Love from thy fingertips encompassing every inch.
A body of beauty to gaze and ravish.
A mind of beauty to watch and devour.
Mine for always.

Kiss me.
I am your woman.
Untamed, nurturing, ruled by the moon.
Behaving in balance with stellar pulls.
Hips for bearing, ******* for worshipping.
Internal beams only you can see; smiles gleamed in the moment.
Listen to my soul and touch my heart.
Yours for always.

Kiss me.
Let our tongues wander the inner walls of our mouths.
Kiss me where our secrets and anecdotes lie.
Mouths straying from lips to necks,
Necks to *******,
******* to what lies between the thighs.
Moistness and anticipation building between the ears and legs.
Unyielding instants of uninhibited eye contact.
Rapture. Pain. Relief.
Everything rises to the surface.
Ours for always.
In all actuality, you are trying to **** me with every chance you can get.
You makes my body reject food, reject sleep…all things that can make it better.
You convince my brain of one thing, and I have to fight to do the opposite.
It’s a chore to have to shower, brush my teeth, take care of myself with you in my life.
But you know that such simple tasks are the ones that will **** you.
You tell me to give up, to just give in, that no matter how hard I try that you will still beat me.

And that is the hardest part.

You convince my brain that it wants my body to die.
But my heart, my soul doesn’t want to, it can’t.
It’s a struggle every second of my life to convince myself that what I am doing against you’re “better judgement” is really the right thing to do. But sometimes everything gets confused and that’s when I have these big break downs.
And during these breakdowns you are always winning…to the point where I am ashamed of what I’ve done.
But then I have to remind myself it was you, Depression, that let it happen.
I, Alex, had no control.
So my body is trying to **** itself one way or another and all I can do is fight back the best I can.
It’s this horrible game of tug and war that neither side is winning.
You are so exhausting.

But I’m going to beat you. I’m going to win.
The best kind of art isn't stolen
there is nothing new under the
sun anyway, except for people
people will always be untrodden
in the simple way that they

exist
(c) Brooke Otto
have i tried for too long
to be a kind of graceful
i am not? delicacy with-
out the shoes, the eyes
Daaé, without the voice
so what kind of pretty
is a girl without

grace?
(c) Brooke Otto
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