An untitled poem by BioSpark. The ending is in the spoiler tag.
Come. . .
Come to me. . .
She calls me from the other room.
I follow her call,
I follow my desire.
Slowly I approach her,
ready to turn her on.
We get started;
everything is fine.
Time seems to slow down,
or maybe it really does.
The moment is perfect.
. . . or is it?
This could be better --
I must improve.
I need to be pleasing;
I need to be appealing.
I have to go back
and make it all better.
It needs to be right,
so I have to try.
Come. . .
Come to me. . .
She calls me from the other room.
I follow her call,
I follow my desire.
Slowly I approach her,
ready to turn her on.
We get started;
everything is fine.
Time seems to slow down,
or maybe it really does.
The moment is perfect.
. . . or is it?
This could be better --
I must improve.
I need to be pleasing;
I need to be appealing.
I have to go back
and make it all better.
It needs to be right,
so I have to try.
Wait,
I've done it.
I just saved five frames.
I've done it.
I just saved five frames.
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