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The glass ashtray
sits in its corner.

It calls me.

Its calls me endlessly.

I stare at it,
answering to its call
not moving one inch.

There is weakness
in this new weakness.

My eyes are not misty.
They are not red.
This game I have
Mastered.

A living without a life.

The half empty bottle
stands in awe of me.
‘You don’t deserve me’
are the words she speaks to me.

I smile.
A knowing smile she has
seen.
‘Be a good girl’ she says, ‘take your
eyes of me’.

Minutes of moments
pass as we stare
in awe at each other.

‘Fuck me over one last time’.

In humble obedience,
I comply.
Letting her into the glass
as I beheld her rich
golden brown glory.

Slowly,
with eyes closed,
I fill myself with her
and she slides down
bewitching me with
extreme brutal harshness
only she can give.

Excellently, I heed the call of
the ashtray.
And as I hold my stick,
fingers kissing my lips,
I inhale deeply,
letting him fill my senses
till they loose focus.

Bloodshot eyes,
Wide open,
I lay down victorious
and I let his light grey
self out of me.
He finds his way to freedom.

We stare at each other
one more time, in admiration.

I’ll be good girl.

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