You touch me, and I become confused.
I tremble like a leaf before the wind.
Fantasy and reality begin to fuse;
as each beginning reaches towards its end
there's pleasure, bordered by a different kind of pain.
Then Fear is gone, and only we remain.
Then You are gone, and only I remain.

So why confusion, why the fear?
Could it be what I see in your eyes?
For though your touch is warm, your eyes are cold.
Yet - still - whenever you are near
my mind reels like the seagull as she flies.
I am only clay in someone else's mold.
And I recall all the love stories I've been told.
And I recall all the lies that I've been told.
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