a bitter wet taste pulls itself into my memory
calling to me across a breach of integrity
beckoning with fierce white fingers
that seem to have no substance to them
until, of course, I am within her grasp
locked into an uncontrollable want
eyes cast downward - away from hope of salvation
away from pragmatic thought
I cannot allow you entrance to my realm
as wonderful as your illusions might be
I have far too many dreams
that need foundations
and so many miles to go before
I can call myself content
This life, I fear, dear mistress
is not for sale at any cost.
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