My Player

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You take out the best in me
Then play with it for hours,
Fumble me in your fingertips,
Poke me with your fun,
Hold me so tight
That I fear not slipping,
But being toyed with
For too long.
I am written in dust,
But you take out my rust,
And press my face
Against your caring thumb,
You rub me with love,
And I melt in your hands,
You laugh so hard at me
That I break down myself
You smile as you read me,
I am smiling myself,
Falling in your eyes,
I see me through them.
Ingrained in my day
Is your wicked routine,
I wake up to you,
Can’t sleep without you,
I have so many things to do,
But I love your games,
And enjoy being played with
When my buttons are pressed.
When you are listening to
Everything I have to say,
I am secretly bemused
How you were made
In my universe so late,
And then shot like a star,
This is so bizarre!
That I can’t even begin to think
What I have to say
I have no say
In the ways of the divine
They elude me, fine!
All I can say,
Or all I can ask –
Just don’t stop reading me,
I am a dumb writer from hell,
Who cannot tell
Players and angels apart.

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