Of Life's True Death Comments

Pride stricken no longer privy to her internal desperation of tempting embrace.
Lustful brushes with finetuned cologne at their curiousity gripped nostrils.
As if a garden unflourished by musty seed, had piled itself comfortably on my wandering brain.
The kind of signal that said we were honest, yet lacking genuine originality as we sit fireside reading books of eastern infatuations.
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