i had thought you a mystery
conducting yourself with a fixed repertoire
never showing more than your image
always thinking three steps ahead
but then you gave me your heart, and now
is it me who's always thinking ahead
fixated on the wisp of an image
seeing ghostly repertoires?
maybe i make the mystery
but one thing i cannot understand how
you are a person living
breathing, sentient
who leads life unsuspectingly
how you're not just the sum of
those cuddly eyes
deceptive breasts
tactile lips
feathery cheeks
and that is what enthralls me:
this is your mystery.
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