(date unknown)
He knows what is best for her
Even when she thinks
She wants something else,
Not the woman
Telling her story,
Even though
This is true for her, too,
The thin line between
What we will do
For ourselves and
What we will allow
Others to do for us,
Feeling the difference inside
Between this love
And other loves,
Whom we have surrendered to,
Who gives us permission
To do what we wished
In the first place
This duality we feel
With each contact,
A touch which is permitted
Up to a point
Then swatted away,
She comparing,
Contrasting
The men who make love to her,
One first, then the other,
Then both,
The pain that is not pain
When she briefly
Oversteps what
Was permitted,
To later to be allowed
To do it again
(this social judgement
Of what is right or wrong,
Proper or improper,
Barely reckoned
When she goes beyond
What which even
She ever wanted,
The rough and tender
Touches
To which she puts no label,
This, too, is part of her story,
The one she needs
To tell for herself,
The story nobody can tell
Or has a right to tell,
Except for herself.
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