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glass can
Poems
Oct 2013
thirsty
I need to stop thinking
about the way you tasted when
I kissed you
gripping your hair
gripping your ***
tracing an outline in your pants
while I quietly moaned
up against a wall
this ***** is making me
thirsty
and there is something
insatiable
biting it's lips
in the
dark
dark
dark
corners
of my bed
Written by
glass can
San Francisco
(San Francisco)
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