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35 3 2
                                    

Satin weaves glossed with half-opened lies fold over milky pores and rouge-glazed lips.
You speak the nebulous entity that her soft lotus-stained balled has to offer;
a breath of suffocation,
a steel crown soaked with liquid traditions.

The girl with blood as her prison,
with the cosmos as her theatres.

TAINTED FACES ARE ONLY
PRETTY WHEN THEY REMAIN UNTOUCHED.

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