You are unreachable. So far from my touch that it makes you irresistible. And I need you. I don’t even know you but I must have you. I am competitive and I want you. Stubborn and I burn for you. I make convoluted plans; complex strategies. Pawns on the chessboard, pins on the map. Better the chase than the real stuff. Not that I’m scared, alright? Still, I wonder... when Pinocchio turns into a real boy (there you are, dying for my bones) the game loses all its charm. Guess wood is easier to deal with than the human mind.
Aída Martínez
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