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long sleeve shirts
Folder:
put in debbie
i am not used to exposure
so if you were to touch me
it would seem as divine
intervention
and intervening into
motion
there is so much more
a little black dress
and pinot grigio
a distant smile
a flicker from the taster
harmony of hips
rhythm of lips
cream of broccoli soup
made from the fermenting
of crossed legs
intimacy in the forest
a tent and the nylon of pretense
a sweater that slips off like the moon
dips into your thighs
