…and it wasn’t until it began that it began. the periods after remarks. fumbled parts of ricocheted actions. the reddest of reds beaming forward to win the race. 

it was a drop. a force. yet tepid, your reactions. the narrowed beams of pleasant fills. ample folds, fat and forgiving. your smile, unreal. 

a packaged waver, allowing the flow. draining me true. 

how can it be? 

 

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