I look at her photos on my phone the way I used to look at
the Playboy centerfold when I was a kid, too old to be pinning over such stuff,
unable to help myself from doing to, needing to, undressing her in my mind, the
way I needed to do when looking at the already naked ladies that porn brought
later, the result always the same, the self-satisfaction required to ease the
pain those pictures bring, sometimes, taking longer tan other times, always
ending up with the small mess I must burying in tissue paper, some nights
letting me drift off into a firmer reality of dreams, while other nights, I
cling to it all, as if it was real, feeling the throb of what those pictures
cause deep inside me.
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