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His fingers trace my skin. The white patterns permanently fashioned in. Uneasy breathing. The pang of curiosity fills the room. I silently plead him not to. He asks anyway.
0
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 1:00 AM UTC
Scars.
His fingers trace my skin. The white patterns permanently fashioned in. Uneasy breathing. The pang of curiosity fills the room. I silently plead him not to. He asks anyway.
renee-warth
Written by
American
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 1:00 AM UTC
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