I am Odysseus,the man of twists and turns.But I seldom make women turn, although they fall in love with my
brown eyes and tall tales.
This woman is white and cold as marble.Nothing moves her as she moves above me.She is not even cowered down by my eyes,my strength,my anger.
It seems she seethes with rage - against me,against all men.But the way she softly touches my lips,is proof that
she loves me.Only a little bit.
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