Little Blonde.

Little blonde woman,

meek and mild,

another day in the office;

a new face in they grey.

He is different.

Scottish, tall, aloof.

Proof that books read

make a more meaty conversation.

You are captivated;

imprisoned by love and lust.

You will lose yourself to him.

Little blonde

with rusted roots,

hair shaped like a bulb;

the electricity tangible.

He gives you gifts

of ideas,

of how to live life

and shape your destiny.

The sex raw and rough,

he challenges you

to grow with him

into an icon never forgotten.

Little blonde,

he binds you in bondage

and traps you for life.

The meek inherit the Earth

but you inherit a life of four walls

and the occasional visit

from blinded well-wishers.

He broke you with his words,

his charisma

and his De Sade literature.

“Myra Hess” he would call you

as you posed for him,

proud and exposed,

open to him

and open to his world.

Little blonde,

your dark roots expose you

and black and white photos

flash across the world.

Your image brings incitement

of hatred and horror.

Love for one man

has made you forever immortal.

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