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Jun 2014
The clock stopped.
It didn't wind down or grind to a halt, it simply stopped.
The ticking could be heard by others,
But not by you.
You were simply transfixed by the notion
Her legs crossed, her foot gently playing. Red toenails beneath nylon, her scarlet lips.
You would follow her to hell and back.
Every word spoken a half lie, and yet you, you only heard truth.
Reeled in like a marlin from the ocean, yet to her flotsam on the sargosa sea
Used for a night and alive like never before.
Then at dawn discarded.
To her a play thing like so many others.
To you?
A cruel and unusual punishment.
A short flash type story.
Micheal Wolf
Written by
Micheal Wolf  On the edge of reason, UK
(On the edge of reason, UK)   
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