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Like a flower with brimming petals, she was.
Like the first trickle of a raging river she was.
Such were her charms. Her tresses through my fingers I ran.
Her infectious laugh reverberated through my soul.
Her angelic gaze hypnotized me to the point of despair.
But then, unannounced, she left. She moved on to a different and distant land, where the pace was hurried and the hearts were cold. She was all grown now and could make her own decisions. But in this strange land, she struggled. She learned an old craft. She sold her smile and rented her laugh. Her ambitions grew, like the trickling river that once she was. This trickle became a voluptuous river that raged in secret quarters.
She found that everything that glittered wasn’t gold. She found that fame and fortune was not for everyone. After many years, she returned and knocked on my door. And so, I opened it. Her semblance was dried, like the leaves of autumn. Her gaze was tarnished by all she’d seen. Her charms had faded away with the youth of her years. But then, she smiled. I hugged her tightly and invited her in. I ran my fingers through her tresses. Her breasts, pushing against my chest, had lost their virginity.
She was no longer a raging river, but a stagnant pond, a distant memory of what she once was. But it didn’t matter. It really did not matter. She had returned. I held her in my arms. And then, when she laughed, I realized that she had never left. She had been diagnosed. There was no treatment for her. She was not going to slip away anymore. So I decided to consummate our love, not to let her go again. So we cuddled and we cried, under the covers of my bed.
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