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Disoriented
He? Him? With his roughshod masculinity? His indelicate nature?
Am I to make a man my companion?
How could I ever be a suitable match?
I am hers, this much I know.
She, who can trace my subtle curves with manicured hands,
Whisper visions into my ear,
and embrace the budding grace within me.
She would wear a flower such as myself
nestled comfortably in her hair.
While he, who claims it is his right to own
would surely crush it.
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