| on_smelling_like_sex_in_the_office | ||
| jane |
in every moment i imagine a thousand futures with you, in lieu of the past two decades we spent with others. perhaps piscean urges are to blame. those fishy bubbles wafting a ladder to the clouds, where my mind turns over and portmanteaus our names, and thinks about your lips between my lips (north or south), or how i smelled you on my skin all day after i left your bed a cheeky undertone to my afternoon wondering if the members of this stale public workforce had ever known such fire. |
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