November 2011
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October 2011
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Haunt
underthelilactrees:
It’s a cold evening and I am wrapped up waiting for you, for him, for them the ghosts of my past the ones that never really disappear.
I run my tongue across the roof of my mouth your taste is stuck there; red wine and stale nicotine and if I swallow the essence of you slides down my throat.
Wet silk and cotton don’t mean what they used to no more sexual frustration, only...
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underthelilactrees:
Charming and sly, he always had the right words to say to get me to tumble into bed with him, in a way no woman should ever forget herself or her meaning or her right to say “fuck you, I am not an easy girl.” With a tongue that dripped honey and tasted of ambrosia, it is easy to see how one woman became addicted to one man, how Eve became addicted Adam, how I became...
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