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Dec 2014
You're a selfish lover,
Waiting at the end of the bed.
Guess we're done,
You finished.

Felt something inside me that wasn't love,
Wasn't pleasure but warmth.
Here comes the uncertainty,
I need forty seven dollars even.

Taking a shower,
Trying to burn off the sins,
What an unfortunate event.
Stop taking off your shirt.
Emma Pickwick
Written by
Emma Pickwick  24
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