Her body eloquent in its form.
Her large, almond-shaped eyes wide with fear and desire.
Her red lipstick smudged beneath my fingers.
Her nerves dancing beneath my touch.
Her long dark hair spread like a wild storm upon sacrificial white sheets.
Her nerves dancing beneath my touch.
Her long dark hair spread like a wild storm upon sacrificial white sheets.
Her nakedness pure and fresh,
But in this heavy, echoing, empty silence I am no longer certain.
Perhaps the final page has already been written.
The ink has dried.
Perhaps the final page has already been written.
The ink has dried.
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