‘sometimes it’s just a fantasy’, i write. almost always a fantasy.

She keeps dreaming
things are naive and filthy
any better prospects?
they get lost completely

well he was sweetly pretty
rugged and strong -
[so burly and stupid]
yes every girl thought he was handsome
[oh but that man was a tool]

safe to say she wanted to be beaten?
with words so strong they left invisible bruises?
not her, that girl.
she turned around before she could see him.

now there is hushed low breathing.
she left that 'feller' there dusty and bleeding
her pencil scratches quickly across her paper.
lucky for her - she's better off creating.
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