You could, if you happened to have the talent, be the one to unfold my heart. Its delicate creases like steel barriers against false love. Soft paper stiff from its lack of use, pretty pinkish red, some sharp corners, some smooth curves. Bend, tuck, a furrow, the gathering of all my desires. Pretty pleated paper, possessing passion. I am partial to a steady hand, an earnest aid. Take care not to unbend to quick. Because, it is, when it comes down to it, paper thin. Paper soft, and paper weak. 



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