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Silent sounds brush The eerie calm chants. We knew it would happen, But when would it happen? Sing to me the sweet pain And stem not the bleeding. Tell the tale of summer’s cold And breathe in the flames of winter. You can pass my eyes Without a second glance, As I lip sync my thoughts Onto your soft skin. Resist not motion Of a cherry sensation Sweet, yet wild as A blossom in full bloom. © 2004
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Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 2:54 PM UTC
Untitled*
Silent sounds brush The eerie calm chants. We knew it would happen, But when would it happen? Sing to me the sweet pain And stem not the bleeding. Tell the tale of summer’s cold And breathe in the flames of winter. You can pass my eyes Without a second glance, As I lip sync my thoughts Onto your soft skin. Resist not motion Of a cherry sensation Sweet, yet wild as A blossom in full bloom. © 2004
neal-emanuelson
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Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 2:54 PM UTC
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