The Pain of Desire
Soft and silent
It starts.
Falling over me
Slowly.
Almost ticking at first
Its kind of exciting.
The movement quietly
Floods through me.
The feathery softness
Quickly becomes solid.
No longer flexible,
It turns me fragile.
It's fluffy little fingers
Redder than the flames
Of my pain.
Silently
Molting by the fire,
I wait
Consumed by desire.
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