POEM 40: Not Me

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His a smug
And I'm his playful muse
As though though that's not enough.
He plays with everyone
He has a muse in every woman he meets.
He looks at me
Gazing at both my eyes at the same time.
He finds cars sexually attractive
And he gazes at me the way he does with cars.
Me drawn to his eyes like that north side stars moving to the south.
I am amazed at this type of gaze
And I questionably gaze back.
So many questions running through my head in just a minute.
Feeling numb cause I know these are lies
But the sad part is that I never looked at him.
They did
All these personalities inside me just looked at him with Lust.

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