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Feminism

I want you to have a lot to say;
I want it all to be about me.
Remember how I cleaned my house?
That was me, dammit; I’m clean now.
My cobwebs are gone.  Uncluttered.
I cut my hair not too long ago.
Can you see my face better now?
You say you want me, but that isn’t enough.
How do you want me?  How often?  How long?
I want you to be dirty and perverse.
Tell me how beautiful I’d look in lingerie.
Describe to me my ass when I walk.
Try to explain the little things I do that turn you on.
Write me anxious sexy poems;
tell me romantic twisted tales.
Let me be your first at something.
Tell me everything about your past
that you wish you didn’t remember.
I can be your counselor.
Redecorate your eyes to see my face.
Accept me.  Let me be over the top.
I’ll suck the consequences.

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