Clever sidewalk, oh thickened hallway of grotesque youth. maybe it's near a derivatives by denotation. The place doesn't matter, it's about the meeting. Your knees are going to quiver; cliche. Your heart is going to rebuild the mayan ruins and climb the mexican plateau all in 3.5 seconds flat. Tsunami? That's nothing. With just your glance, you'll redesign the earth's pulsating, radiating, and excitable core; your core will meander, as well. You'll lose your virginity before you say hello.
When Leander utters such precious tones of vocal chords, the ground will shatter beneath you. His maimed groove of stylistic demeanor is rocketing off the walls, like the snap of your bra-strap after only a few more minutes of him drinking your pleasure, and you participating in his covertness. and you won't have even spoken yet.
If he greets you, which he's viable to not, you've peaked his arousal. are you blond? are you cherry? well, you're female. 'twill do. Leander cares not for squander, for formality, he's not looking for something serious this evening, or any between the sheets. He'll say goodbye before you remember your name, and thank him. He doesn't yearn to be thanked; and he won't recall your plow, let alone a moment of forgetting your well-bred mannerisms.
He has beauty pinpointed to a form of seduction. You can't be pretty, if he deems you unworthy. Leander. The sex-drive you feel for a flash when you relive your impure fantasies is just how he'll infatuate the brain cells you have left.
When Leander speaks to me, I have the right, by writ, to address him by his name. He's custom to kiss a cheek, and press my body close to his, but only to demonstrate a previous affection. My affliction is history, mystory, herstory. This disease is unattractive, and he seals our scope with binding commendation. Half a decade ago, I was his, and he was mine. Before he became the Leander of prime. Just a little boy. Did I force his objectification of women upon him with my selfish act of thirteen-year-old lust? Was that original sin, that taste of skin, the very reason he's turned into the Leander he is? The women who fall for him are imbeciles. I'm the one they can learn from.
