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Apr 2011
If I could crawl into a furnace and not melt I would crawl into you. You would warm me to the tips of my fingers and the ends of my hair could draw glass letters in the sand. I could glow orange and red with your veins glowing with the combustion of our love filling your form to the brim to the brim to the brim. Let me lean in, I don’t want to you to spill any of that love on the carpet.
© wordswithmypulse
HR Beresford
Written by
HR Beresford
486
 
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