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sunday

by The-empty-cupboard

she wore dotted patterns draped over the bare of her dotted arms a frill in the hem was the purity the white sheet sheilding dotted skin a bright virginal white against her hair. it tickled her waist where rivers threaded seams pulled taught against freckled hips bloody chasms from the strangulation of the chaste garments rivers where she was bathed as a girl as a virginal sapling now full and weeping under layer after layer after suffocating layer of linens to keep dotted skin from breathing.
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Written by
The-empty-cupboard
20 / American
For You?
Written by
The-empty-cupboard
20 / American
Published
Aug 7, 2016
Time
1m
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