I do not love... Trapped here in his hand,
like a shackle across my breast.
He’s running his fingers the course of my skin.
He is the man,
HE, is the man.
My face deceives him,
for I cringe at the touch.
His breath hot on my chest.
I can only lay expressionless,
waiting for his fill to end.
I do not love this man.
I will not rise to this man.
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