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The Plastic Woman

I prefer natural women. I find women with plastic bodies and faces tend to have plastic hearts. Stiff, tight, unyielding, impenetrable, unbreakable, artificial hearts. Hard on the outside, hollow within. Shame on the system that convinced you that you weren’t enough. Convinced you that there were parts of you not acceptable or lovable. Convinced you to hide behind plastic armor. You’ve mistaken me for a superficial man. A man who will compliments your superficialities. One who will see only the beauty on the surface and be blind to what you hide. Unless I’m wrong. Is there something in you, beneath the surface? Prove me wrong. Otherwise you will remain another fake woman with an artificial confidence. I know that’s not you. That’s only who you pretend to be. I’m not like other men. I don’t want to just get inside of you. I want to get inside of you. I want to be familiar and comfortable with the parts of you that you don’t share with others. I want to show you that parts are safe with me. Yes, I will courageous go where other men wouldn’t dare. If you let me in. If you desire true connection. If you desire Oneness. There can be no hiding. No superficiality. Do you want to be loved only for the person you pretend to be, or the person you are, beneath surface?

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