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Possession

I want to be possessed
I want to convulse with the knowledge
That I am yours
And you are mine

Not the unhealthy, overbearing
Demonic upheaval of the senses
But the protective stares
And arms over shoulders at the movies

A passive-aggressive comment
To anyone who questions my integrity
A dark “Excuse me?”
Or a more volatile remark

I don’t know why I want it
Most girls my age assert
That they don’t need someone to save them
Is it bad how comfortable I am

With the idea
Of you holding me
And reminding me
That you’ll never let go



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