He whispers in my ear,

With words contrived to change opinion.

Long, spindles of fingers,

Reach into my brain,

Scratching,

Scraping,

The shocks of his sorcery.

He tells his story, with whispered murmurs,

Using the language of his creator.

He surpasses,

Goes beyond expectation, 'til at last his spell is woven,

And the memory of his touch,

Leaves me yearning,

F...

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