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Sep 12
Through the witching hour she cries

Veiled stories flood her mind

swept by mellifluous tones of lust

Still, conscience breaks through her skin

Traces of fingertips and lips

patterned on her supple skin

Yet her mind wanders; mistakes,

longing to touch the bottom

a bottomless abyss of sins
Piyath
Written by
Piyath
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