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Price of Passion
His warm touch still lingers on skin chilled with loneliness. His strong, calloused fingers burned with their gentleness. When morning vomiting ceases, his lips’ sweetness still remains. Fear’s icy grip releases with memory’s warm rains. Memories are sharp and clear with all the heat and fire of his naked body pressing near and her answering desire. Gentle fingers traced searing lines that burned within her breast, releasing tides from cool confines with surging waves to crest. Drowned in primal passion masquerading as love’s first taste, she swells past current fashion as reality is feebly faced. The clean smell of the clinic brings fresh bile to rise, as she fights thoughts of a cynic while looking thru teen age eyes.
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