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Bittersweet You offer me with outstretched palm My future, a dark square cube. You smile and wait so still For me to pluck it from your hand. And pluck, I do, a fish for bait, Biting off a corner of the glossy Come hither, and taste what is offered me. As it melts in my mouth, it becomes Thick and sticky and nearly not so sweet. I shiver at the harshness as it replaces The lust before it. Smiles turn to frowns And coos to growls And pretty compliments To ardent reproach. |
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