Tenderness

It’s not sex, it’s not your good looks, it’s tenderness that wins a man’s heart, and honesty. You may have looks and style. You may sigh or scream just the way he likes to hear when you come, or something along those lines. That certainly doesn’t hurt, but, by God, it’s tender loving care he wants, just like you. And in keeping with that spirit: loyalty, faithfulness, no matter what goes down. No matter what.
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Shadows . . .

. . . as if the shadows themselves where concrete, and threw shadows of their own, a multiplicity of shadows that threaten to crowd my mind in to insanity. So, if I whine in my sleep and you see my legs moving, you know now what I am dreaming of. I’m not a dog chasing a fox . . . The fox is chasing me, it’s a huge, unholy shadow with fangs the size of daggers. I haven’t the guts to face it, though I know that if I turn around it will simply fade away. It’s my own damned shadow I’m running from. It’s me.
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