2007 November:
2007 March:
2007 January:
2006 December:
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I've never like my snow-like skin but as my flesh warms to your touch self consiouness drifts away but tiny remenents remain like a half-forgotten dream as you trace my scars with your fingers making comments on my marks my body responds involuntarily and though that act defies free will I don't mind not really I come to you in supplication a year's worth of tear in my hands and a sheen of sweat on my body my breath heaving this is my offering to you like an insect you sip my nectar in the folds like leaves and I exhale into you as the sun rises this naked yearning isn't romantic it's desperate you work inside me until I become a metaphor light, translucent without substance I am only imagery but I don't mind not really
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