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"I wasn’t born a compassionless shrew. I used to be sort of nice, you know."

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Monday, May 11, 2009
10:12 PM ; inamorata.

slippery fantasies cast bows and baubles across her wintery skin
a jealous lover of an opalescent sea; beautiful drownings are her lexicon of love
shallow clamour goes unheard and artistic elegance is assumed.

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