Old Update Book

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There is no color to our meeting, it blows through in monochrome. I go where your cool fingers beckon me, I am like troublesome ice after the melt. You gently scoop me up to your mouth, and play with my upper lip, still, l search for a form of love. The dry eyes that shape the present, rather than a distant time. Want to end like this, cloaked, but the night ignores that wish and brings morning, with your gentle, passionate, and dastardly kiss, paint this final night, the moon illuminates us