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A Poem Written Long Ago
When my hand brushes your nipple, An electric shock runs between my legs And surprises me there. When my hand glides against The curve of ...
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When my hand brushes your nipple, An electric shock runs between my legs And surprises me there. When my hand glides against The curve of ...
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So here we go, 2025. Many did not come along with us. We persist for now. I admit to a certain amount of melancholy this season. I spent Ch...
The photos from this particular trip (Morocco? Not a mosque in Sacramento?) continue to fascinate me. Is that Steve just outside the door on the right side?
ReplyDeleteLovely image, Tara.
ReplyDelete