My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th’uncertain sickly appetite to please.The night wind gently caressed his skin with a velvetine embrace, like sliding satin across silk. Unmarred, perfectly white skin, a creature of the night long before she'd come into his
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You still have a story of mine, that I'm waiting for some dialogue input on. :-)
I love it, btw.
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Resend it to me? *blinks cutely*
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