pop it.
bubble gum burst, baby. green glitter flecks of trouble bubble in your eyes. the haze of new city lights clear. fear ignites, among other things burning inside me now. my mind is no longer free... to focus on me.
i envision marks of my lipstick dancing on your collar, neck, cheeks, lips... there has been a rip in my time space continuum.
please. tear slowly.
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1 comment:
Ooh. Sounds like trouble.
Good for you!
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