The Sacred Sensual
Published in

The Sacred Sensual

Prose of Roses

A-hump shudder hinder my attempt to let myself in! Just jot trot slot me in as your 4 0'clock Grrl! Let me bite that neck of pearly dew. Dip my wings through your shadow of love; rain on my parade Grrl! Cum hither, run your fingers through my crewcut, lick your salted fingers plunging into drowning dewdrops of dawn. Now I am free.

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Mimi Bordeaux

Mimi Bordeaux

Renegade of prose_+ creation of the troubled mentor-= abyss sinking memory flowing through subconscious mind: it's the dreamland coming:+