this is something that came to me at 7:03am while watching Coco Before Chanel and thinking about Nirrimi's writing style. i jotted it down in my cell phone- the nearest thing to write in, enjoy:
I get all the jewels in the world,
every shade of red across my lips
and any silk I desire.
All for a fair sex-trade.
He buys me these things. I adore them.
I feel nothing when he mounts me,
and I'm glad to be as numb as a corpse.
I dwell in acting, so moaning at the right moments
to boast his ego comes naturally.
It's the flushing I can't fake.
Why would my bruised hymen make my blood flow any faster?
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