friends only.

let me tell you something ( Read more... )

UN MEURTRE DE L'AMOUR AU MOTEL NOIR
by ian coad


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her chapped lips, porous, state, "i never expected to be as unsatisfied as this."

"you and pronouns."

"you, me, what's the difference?"

"you only see people as something conquerable."

"what about you?"

you are a sun burn flaking onto forest green sheets, the impression left from the imaginable rotating into discontent.

"you wanted to know ( Read more... )

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