To you,
My body only opens,
For you.
To you,
I am an open window,
For thieves to come in
And take what they need.
I am a foul-smelling rag,
Left out to clean up all the mess,
Over-used and tainted with the odor.
They never use me to keep warm at night,
Only to play in the dark.
These games we play aren’t fun for me.
I lost the ball when I was fifteen,
So I can’t find the fun anymore.
Instead, I close my eyes, and wait for it to be over,
Hoping you’ll still be there, when I open them again.
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