Zywa
Presents with a bow
To be touched, I must
first be seen or heard, which is
becoming increasingly difficult
My smile is still sweet, but I
had to speak sweet words and
the words had to be sweeter
My body is still beautiful, but you
gave me perfume, a fishnet dress
and black-red lingerie
as if I am a doll
a new one, that you like
to explore with pinches and kisses
the hard in the weak
curious about my cuddliness
and the little sounds I will sigh
For the mystery of my soul
you have only little patience
half an ear and a fleeting eye
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