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2d
Let my words trace your silhouette,
a phantom’s caress, lingering yet.
Each syllable a brush of desire,
kindling sparks, igniting fire.

Lines flow like molten gold,
writing secrets your skin won’t withhold.
Every curve, every plane,
etched in whispers that call your name.

They cascade down, slow and sure,
filling spaces you long to endure.
A tempest builds, fierce and untamed,
branding softly, your soul renamed.

Breathless heat, a searing tide,
our untold story where passions collide.
My words, a map, a lover’s art,
binding you fast, heart to heart.
Styles
Written by
Styles  NYC
(NYC)   
108
 
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