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Our shoes are still piled high in the corner As we ourselves are in bed Clumsy and cute but with collective resignation Our clothes in artlessly incriminating puddles Divided floorbound like playing cards The crude magic of arousal Tricks us into losing them, one by one With no respite and no mercy Until we're robbed blind enough   To then borrow whatever remains
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Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
Low Ceiling (excerpt)
Our shoes are still piled high in the corner As we ourselves are in bed Clumsy and cute but with collective resignation Our clothes in artlessly incriminating puddles Divided floorbound like playing cards The crude magic of arousal Tricks us into losing them, one by one With no respite and no mercy Until we're robbed blind enough   To then borrow whatever remains
miles-cottingham
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Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
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