There
you sit,
Fixed atop the haft,
Penny new,
Fresh and gleaming.
My skin awaits you,
fresh from the bath,
anointed, balmed,
aching for your touch.
The touch that lifts,
separates and surgically
trims me, leaving me
naked, bare to the world
And then we are done.
I cleanse you of me,
forget you,
and put you away.
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