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ryann
Poems
Oct 2014
frustration friday
the memory of his large, thin hand on my back brought me to the
ghost of his breath entering my mouth...
these realities kick start my heart so i roll out of bed.
longing is unsettled skin and a crossed leg that won't stop hopping.
looking for familiarity in different hands, different *****...
hoping to feel that same flame lick up my thighs.
searching for green in the bluest of eyes~
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ryann
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