Show me your edges

Take off your clothes. Show me. Show me your edges. I want to see with my own eyes where you end and where I begin. I want to see where I fit, where you leave off being you and turn into me


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…I’ve resisted your coos and your well planned advances despite them being precise, well thought out-successful, just as you were trained to be -in any given situation;  rote, like getting dressed.

Shirt. Check.
Pants. Check.
******. Check.
Seduce her by any means possible.
Check.. 💭

I believe your mind was set on a conquest, a plan was formulated. Once that plan was put into action, it flowed through you, effortlessly. You’ve been tireless.
I admit, I rather like this game of chase, it feels good not only to be desired, but to be in absolute control of it. We don’t move until I said move. 

And you, so charmingly persistent and on your best behavior…

I see through your chivalry- I feel what you crave-I crave too

but I  know you like the thrill of the hunt–the chase, the conquest — the more challenging the pursuit, the better… the thought of the pursuer and the pursued. 
I let you give chase, giving you a run for your money–but you’re gaining on me.

I’m  unable to ward off your sweet nothing proposals and promises;  I’ve lost the ability to thwart your advances.

Or maybe I just lost the desire to resist you.

Your presence over time has overwhelmed me, broken my defences-I can feel myself being consumed by you. I have no choice but to accept defeat, and surrender myself totally to you…

To be continued…

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