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Spontaneous Adoration
I know that at first,
In my nervous state
I brushed you off
And tried to be amusing
To hide the mess inside me,
And I bet you deemed me ‘asshole’.
My mouth, numbed again and again
(For I’ve always been too sensitive),
Only managed grunts of affirmation;
But you saw through that, right
(When I shyly smiled like an immigrant)?
I felt my big head in my lazy, loose lips,
And I didn’t want to drool on you
And you saw that, didn’t you?
You eased as I surrendered,
Lying over on my back;
You glimpsed the burnt mess at my chest,
on the bottom of the flapjack.
You must’ve known, standing in front of me
(Pretty petite, cute in your work suit)
That checking out your backside
Would tempt my newly sweet demeanor;
But I stood for something,
Sitting in that unreclined machine seat,
I waited until you turned around,
To rest my eyes on yours.
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