Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Frisked. Comments
Rating: ★0.0
The prolonged moans of opera sirens will echo within imaginary looming chambers,
I close my lids, soaking in the aptly chosen playlist
My eyes otherwise never leaving this polished table, not straying once from concentration
But in my peripheral yours will have stayed long enough to sear two parallel lines through my green cardigan
...
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7/23/2025 3:42:40 AM # 1.0.0
