Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Plaything Of A Narcissist

She never met a mirror that she didn’t like,
never got tired of her own tones.
I understood,
because I was crazy about her,
caught up in how clever she is,
just another doll on her shelf,
spellbound and silent until she picks me up,
I purr, pulled pure from my senses by the softness of her fingertips.
She knows!
Of course,
she knows!
She is a bright beauty,
intellectual and enticing,
and I am at her mercy.
That’s just how I like it.

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