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Swallow, Sparrow.

Uneasy, queezy, no breezy feeling, On currents that carry you home. Settle, Swallow. Love him, Sparrow. A nest shouldn't be so cold.

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Written by

Published: Apr 12, 2012
LinesWords: 722

Notes: I am his peach. Plump, plucked, ripe for him. He'll eat me up... While I dream of a fruit of my own. Dark hair. Damp cave.

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