A Heaven Which Will Never Open Its Gates To Me
I pass her every night, sitting there in the window, ablaze in red lingerie, tempting me, filling me with desire. But I'm on to her, know I will never tempt her from her post. Intimate articles from her wardrobe laid out before her, promise pleasures she will never bestow. I wonder if there's a cruelty in that, this vulgar display of a heaven which will never open its gates to me?
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