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Oct 2018
I let him in
Through the back door

He alone
Holds the password.

Seldom knocks
But often enough;

Through the tiny peephole
Of the unresolved,

I take the chain
Off the door.

I keep my skirt
While he unbuttons my heart

That door policy is rough
But he earns my trust;

That love hurts
'Til a gentle push.

Unlock
The secrets to my core;

The fissure
Of pleasure

For a full-frontal
Of my soul.

He sneaks
In the back door

Only he knows
The password;

No one is welcome
But one.
Nicole Bataclan
Written by
Nicole Bataclan  38/F/Berlin, Germany
(38/F/Berlin, Germany)   
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