Based on "A Dialogue between the Soul and Body" by Andrew MarvellSOUL: Oh, who can from this bear releaseA flowered soul who knows no peace?This meaty hand, this bulging arm,This weedy face which knows no charm,This hairy foot, this eye that leers,This mottled nose, protruding ears:A prison grown large to restrainThis sweet and simple, gentle brainWhich longs with every coarse heartbeatSurroundings dainty and petite.BODY: Who says that I'm some jail. Instinctively I covered up with my hands."No hiding from your bestie." She pulled my hands away. "How did I missthese when you were getting dressed for the wedding?" I changed in the bathroom," I said."My god, your aureoles are what, three inches in diameter? Those aren'ttypical guy bits." She reached out and pinched a nipple. It immediatelystiffened. It was the size of a blackberry. I yipped and pulled back.She chuckled. "Well, when you get your own rack to back those up, you'rea shoe in to be. As the rain lashed against the window, sending cascades of water coursing down the glass, the tears began to stream down Margot’s face, silently at first, then with increasingly heartrending sobs, Margot wept. After a few minutes she seemed to slide from the chair she was sitting on, and fall to her knees. Then through the choking sobs came the words – words that seem to be torn from the depths of her being. ‘God what did I do?’ she moaned. ‘Why, why, why? Where did I fail? What did I not give.Read More
