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She was white
lying there
skin like a meadow blanketed in snow
her knees - two rose colored peaks
a sharp contrast in color.
I pinch her thigh
she cries out
I watch the skin go from white to red
my hands go around her waist -
burning -
she was always cold
I kiss her breast
blow a puff of hot air on the wet spot
her cold heart melts -
paper cheeks marked with rose.
The rose that smells the sweetest,
but grows wild and throny
this time she doesn't get me,
I p***k her
and pull her from the ground.
- by cinderheIIa |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 08/18/2014 |
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