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I once had a love who folded secrets between

“I once had a love who folded secrets between her thighs like napkins, and concealed memories in the valley of her breasts. There was no match for the freckles on her chest, and no one could mistake them for a field of honeysuckles. Upon her lips, a thousand lies were spread in sweet gloss. Her kiss was like a storybook from ancient history. She was at home with the body of a man inside her, beside her. At night, when she lay in bed crying, no one could mistake the tears she wept for a summer shower. She is gone, my love, She was a wanderers, a wildflower.”

— Roman Payne


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