Your voice as smooth as velvet,
your eyes they matched in blue. Promised of Greece, and sunsets, and I thought it to be true. Your curves etched out as David, your lies coated in gold. Fooled I once had been, as if I had never before been told. You worried of my curious nature, worried my tongue could talk and more. Double standards set in present, but you're equally a whore.
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Sydne Kilberg"She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something." Archives
February 2016
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