22. The defeat

Slowly drawing the body’s line.
Hand slides brushing the skin,
Hot and soft. Feeling the heat
Burning me,
Wanting to rid myself of it.
I want to get away from him,
To make disappear trouble and fear.
But he stops my revolt, so vain,
Without gesture or fierceness.
I can’t get myself off his will.
Hypnotized and weak,
— I surrender.
Caress with absolute softness,
He brushes barely my lips.
As a tear slides along my cheek.

 

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