I dream of love.
I dream of lust.
The little girl that once was is dead.
Innocence torn away abrubtly and with finality.
Her memory lives, but she is no more.
Door shut on the past,
though it is what shapes the future.
Having accepted that I am,
with all my twisted tendencies, me.
Who knew?
Romantic notions exist within.
I am simply a woman.
Who dreams of a man.
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