MERCIFUL
Her head hung over the washbowl,
her midriff belled her
defenceless buttocks.
The moment seemed ordained for
the blow,
a simple neck-chop, without
any fuss.
He briefly stroked with tormenting
finger.
The skin went taut like the
film on milk.
His urge got harder. He strove
to desire her.
She cooed seductively: is this
the moment?
Then he saw himself in the
mirror,
the scrawny legs, the shirt that
was huge.
The power of love made his
eyes grow bigger.
He tweaked her buttocks, in merciful
mood.
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