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Gotta Go

man I dig that ambient "hourglass" that fresh butter bean lipstick your tousled feathery yarn dirty brown hair I dig you; gotta run make love to you latter under the sun drenched each gotta run fresh strawberries and cream on the veranda how does that sound? at the end of our day gotta run at the next of our meeting i'm all yours we are ours and i'll stay

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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Book: Shattered Sighs