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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#77461voted by our readers
By Anonymous
His lips tasted of his breat; stained with liqour and guilt. As he pressed himself so close to me, I could feel the irratic thumping in his chest. The thumping that seemed...
His lips tasted of his breat; stained with liqour and guilt. As he pressed himself so close to me, I could feel the irratic thumping in his chest. The thumping that seemed...