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Nov 06, 2024
Like a butterfly pinned in a collage, fluttering. Death makes a deal.
I was appalled standing on the edge watching the withering body.
The lake drowns me. Seagulls were waiting for a renaissance.
It is not even midsummer. The planting of the kiss remains incomplete.
No sex was involved in baring midriff. Moon ignites the legs.
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