Lolita
- after Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov
Love me Lolita
you’re on the tip of my tongue
fire of my loins
sin of my soul
Love me Lolita
laying there in the garden
looking up and down
at a widowed white male
Love me Lolita
I’m not too old
you’re another country
we are removed
Love me Lolita
light of my life
lying on my bed
your toe nails a mess
Love me Lolita
this damaged man
I’ve torn you from your childhood
into a hundred degrees
Love me Lolita
your mother is dead
I didn’t kill her
she died of fear
Love me Lolita
you are so many people
in your changing hues
but in my arms you are always Lolita
Love me Lolita
as you love another
leave me Lolita
I can’t bare the pain.
Robert Kennedy
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