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Apr 15
Lock the doors
and **** the engine.

There’s a storm coming.

Heavy scent of hunger and humidity,
rain against the roof, the rhythm we fall into
slowly, a little stronger with each breath.
You come closer, whispering like thunder
in my ear so soft,
so bold.
I have always been weak in the face
of cruel fingers and gentle mouths,
but you are undoing me
wholly, completely
and I cannot resist
the petrichor
anymore.
gracie
Written by
gracie  17/F
(17/F)   
271
     William Maxwell
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