to the one who offered fields of loopins,
lush beds of wild flowers,
kissing my cheeks,
tickling my skin,
touching my inner thighs,
inducing smiles in internal places,
you loved not the girl,
but the game of the girl,
you loved not the girl,
but the prospect of the girl,
you loved not the girl,
but the defeat of the girl,
and the girl you loved not,
loved you.
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