you are kissing me swollen and sore looking, face upturned, expectant and pure we are losing our shirts to the mess on the floor laughter seeping out through the cracks in the door
p.s. i'm thinking of writing a short story based on you and some of your experiences (with a bunch of other shit thrown in, mind you). you should call me on the cellophone and i will do research :).
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be well.
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and the icon. i'm lovin' it, mickeydees
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