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It starts out as
An innocent tug at my wrist.
I follow thoughtlessly, childishly
But then, there is a harsh yank
To my ankle
When did you start
Twisting my arm behind my back
And pulling my leg?
Some time ago, I must have realized
I've been bending over backwards for you
And that concern for my comfort
Has evaporated.
Yet your words are anchors
That pull me in.
Potent promises, sweet seductions,
That paste up any cracks in my will.
You lead, I follow.
And now, I am too fatigued
To bother with fighting any longer.
Twist me, tear me
Pose and repair me.
I am your favorite doll.
 Deoxyribose Dollface · Sat Aug 22, 2009 @ 02:02pm · 0 Comments |
