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I lie and listen to her breathing like the whisper of seduction. The murmur of a promise the sigh of a summer breeze. The scrape of the chair the roar of an engine. The sand in my trainer water gurgling through the pipes. The turn of the wheel. The meaning of my words. Back to tranquillity and she is once more the wine in my glass the cork in my bottle. Marks to my Spencer my chip ‘n’ pin. The stone in my cherry the warm breathe of the oven door. Candyfloss at the fair Blood in my veins.
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:27 AM UTC
The Mrs
I lie and listen to her breathing like the whisper of seduction. The murmur of a promise the sigh of a summer breeze. The scrape of the chair the roar of an engine. The sand in my trainer water gurgling through the pipes. The turn of the wheel. The meaning of my words. Back to tranquillity and she is once more the wine in my glass the cork in my bottle. Marks to my Spencer my chip ‘n’ pin. The stone in my cherry the warm breathe of the oven door. Candyfloss at the fair Blood in my veins.
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:27 AM UTC
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