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This is no time for flowers, my sweet:
they sear in the winds of shattered trust.
The air hangs heavy with the musk of heat:
sluts and vampires rage in lust.
Ebdurance has no limit; Flowers wither but another takes its place. The heavy air drops seeds of the new season; Beauty and innocence in pure desire. Hang in there !
5 Comments:
Ebdurance has no limit;
Flowers wither but another takes its place.
The heavy air drops seeds of the new season;
Beauty and innocence in pure desire.
Hang in there !
I like the way you've expressed the suppressed violence of emotions...
Ooooh...
oh yeah !!
oh yeah !!
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