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  1. We sit on our bench reaping the colors and aroma of the garden. The wind spinner ticks a tempo for the birdsong. I place a gentle kiss on her cheek. She looks in my eyes, says my name. The sun moves an inch in the sky, and her memory . “Who are you?” she asks.

  2. 26. tra 2019.

    your is destroying me big-man-ing your boy for me fanning lava love flame in catapult games somersaults pain canned laughter rains as you toy with me to denying I see ploy am decoy dying now I’m rapidly trying to erupt joy in me

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  3. 15. lis 2009.

    on Our , while the Steals Their Funding... http://url2it.com/bghb

  4. Her belief in herself today tired and alone mind disarray From the mirror to her eyes to her breasts to her thighs To her heart she knows is pure Well once it was maybe not anymore Back and forth confidence torn heart battered and beauty worn

  5. Life, how it between intoxicate and excruciate. It sings and it howls, so where are you now between the two?

  6. 26. tra 2019.

    Little droplet Leaving its abode between Parched land and azure Makes a choice on the way Falls on the dry land ~Burns ~Sizzles ~Dies away Great souls No less than Gods Working quietly Without any applaud

  7. 26. tra 2019.

    He moves his hands like closing a curtain; the sky between night and day: half dark, half light. Pinching his fingers against the horizon like he’s plucking a feather, he pulls out a sliver, stuck like parsley between the teeth of time. “It’s ours,” he says.

  8. 26. tra 2019.

    She between two worlds; completely here with me, then her eyes glaze over and she’s off again. With them. Living their pain, their love, their triumphs and defeats. Sometimes, I envy those characters. Born from her soul, they know her better than I do.

  9. Clouds roll away. The cesspool between flat onyx stew and sparkling emerald pit. This used to be a gold mine. It built a city, a country, or so they say. Now it kills white birds and entertains tourists. A scar on a hill harboring our filthiest secrets.

  10. 26. tra 2019.

    She looks at the ring and . I'm a bundle of nerves, it took me a while to made up my mind about it. She's mulling it over, I wish I could know what she's thinking, my future depends on the decision she makes. "I'll give you two thousand dollars for it." "Deal!"

  11. 25. tra 2019.

    She steps from that bridge Every night plunging down Following him in a Flightless dive, Falling past wide arches, An unheard splash in a massive river, She then thrashes where He fell away from her, finding him Unbreathing Pulling his cold body from icy water

  12. 26. tra 2019.

    His shadow, Black as Raven, Toy's with decision The wood, ancient Harmonised. His mood Between good + destructive Minds state. A Nightingale eyed his soul Time stops Nature sang to him Belonging. Shadow dancing... Moving on

  13. 26. tra 2019.

    In the night someone cut down Bluebear's home tree. Looking out across a naked earthscape his hope between precarious wonderlust and clutching regret, his hairy blue feet rooting down into where he needs to be; here, still.

  14. 26. tra 2019.

    I watch the sky turn. Stars fade to blue. Then sun becomes moon as the light flits away again. The earth turns. The sky . But not my love.

  15. Bibbity bobbity boo, She in a tizz! Never quite knowing what to do. Throwing fairy dust high above, Willing her magic wand! Inducing a playful air of love. But she forgot yesterday’s sayin’ Cupid had warned them already! Today’s his hard earned !!

  16. 26. tra 2019.

    Between final weary thoughts and sleep, where consciousness subdues. A golden moment occurs where the mind between the two. That’s when I fill my mind with my sweet memories of you. Hopeful as I drift asleep, in my dreams, we will rendezvous.

  17. The poet . He should be working on his latest commission, but visions of her fingers distract. He slams shut the notebook, clatters out of the door. . He can write vapid platitudes better with a bottle of wine inside him. is an empty playground.

  18. 25. tra 2019.

    Goldilocks between dyeing her locks auburn or pink. She chooses auburn, then she goes to the pub for a few pints. There she meets Daredevil from that other story, & he asks if carpet, drapes match. They decide to get a room.

  19. 26. tra 2019.

    Arabella between two terrible choices, shifting from one foot to the other. Her fingers grip the end of her braid as she weighs her options. A glance -- she's out of time. She plants her feet, opens her mouth, and lets out a scream to shatter the windows.

  20. 26. tra 2019.

    Beast is no gentle keeper. His love for you ; admiration for your beauty turns to jealousy in a snap. Time passes. You grow. He’s a book you learn to read, you keep his desires up your sleeve. Play him like a puppet & you may escape.

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