Did she take pity on me, or was it that she saw the real me?
Anne was light as a feather, her being, she seemed to dance in a world that stood still.
She could say and do anything and get away with, in my youth and confusion I thought just maybe she was an angel.
She did many angelic things, but the first time she pushed her crotch into my thigh, the fist time she licked the tip of my earlobe, I knew she was wholly-woman-human.
With every kiss, she tried to teach me something, tell me something, tell my soul something. Every argument ended in tears.
I think she left when see saw, that I was blind, that I was never gonna see what see could.
Her tears stained my vision.
