by Palesoles

Here you stand,
frozen immobile.
After all the waiting,
after all the rejections,
I own you now.
Thinking you're too good for the average suitor.
Thinking your beautiful features were the god's gift to man.
Displaying yourself in the bars as something obtainable.
Flirting, leading people's hearts on,
cruelly hurting them in the end with a ' you were expecting too much.'
All the while you were saying yes to intimacy.
It was so easy,
catering to your ego.
Buying your drinks as a prelude,
to a false intimacy in the night promised by you.
A exotic elixir in one drink,
my offer to take you home when you became dizzy.
By the time I had you naked in my special shower,
the syrupy liquid coating began to harden.
You were too stiff to escape when the realization set in,
that you were going to pay for the hurt you caused.
And now you grace my library,
a nude statue on display,
a tribute to your own egotism,
a monument to your vanity.
Now you reside here for my eyes only,
a thing without identity,
an object no different than a piece of furniture.
Isn't this what you wanted?
Something to be seen but not touched.
Are you enjoying the attention?


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