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Conflict in Perpetual Motion

I still love you

Even in your absence

I'm damned to

my affections;

I won't want

to say it;


I'm so embarrassed

you know, despite

our strange

and nameless

game.


You might

get cocky

one day if

I say what I

mean to speak;

You'll use me up

till I waste

away in fits.

Comments

  1. Oh Miss La Frere.

    It hurts to read of your romance pains. I have been frequenting your blog for awhile now. When I first discovered it I was thunderstruck. Here is by far one of the most seductively beautiful woman I could ever dream of, and she takes tasteful nudes and underwear shots? Not only that but she can mold the human language from a lump of ejaculatory clay in to whatever she pleases all while smoking weed and making me laugh. Sublime. But then I continued reading and found that you seem to be stuck on a man who does not appreciate you for anything other than your reproductive organs. Day after day I read your humorous musings but I also read the sad stuff. The eloquent poems, your prose, communicating such heartache. Clearly you have deep feelings for your muse but think twice. Your value as a person, all the things that make you who you are as Camille. Does he value these things? Does he give a second thought to the fact that you pine and swoon for him? You are magnificent, sexy, funny, and strikingly intelligent. You are truly a work of art. A work of art that has been cast in to a corner and covered so that none can appreciate it. And to top it all off, in your heart of hearts you are kind and gentle. I read your entries about raising kids. It just makes you that much more sexy. An artistic woman who likes weed, making fun of pop culture and has some sort of insatiable need to satisfy her man? Do not waste yourself on this "You" guy anymore. You deserve a King.

    Signed Feather Bed Man

    ReplyDelete

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