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Dear, dear diary... I want to tell my secrets...
Who knows what the entry will be next? Poetry, profiling, tekteking, talking about me, random moments, things I'll never say... Ah, it's just a mish-mash in here. Seriously.
Poem: The Call.
How can she stand there and just gaze?
As across the room, he radiates his haze,
A haze that teases, contorts and takes,
She tries so hard, needy, yet not to break.

She wants it, oh she wants it so bad,
It creates in her soul, a blackness of this cad,
This villain who radiates his thrall,
He's so beautiful, perfect, thinks the doll.

She bats her brown eyes, but he doesn't give a glance,
She needs his attention, dying in want, she's in a trance,
He releases his pull, the critter upon his lap unwanted,
But, it's not her, no, it's not the doll, intruding his space undaunted.

He throws it aside and rises from his place, she'd beg to follow,
Not one to do so, she sits there and pines, she's hollow.
All she sees is the villain now, he's taunted her thoughts,
Through her heart, her mind and her body, longing has wrought.

But he won't shoot a glance her way,
In her heart, her want shall remain,
He's silent, ominous, attached to few,
His loves his friends and his little minister too.





 
 
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