John Hughes BluesLouisa Spaventa
The martyrous diamond earrings transferred from silky palm to silky palm. Kissing across cake on a glass cloud. Love at sixteen and virtuous sex. No forced blow jobs. No ripped or backwards panties. No inebriated hot lakes. Breath the temperature of icecream tulips a pout like the folding of a velvet shirt. No breath of eating young armadillos, No bean caps on the teeth, No sweaty upper lip. There's a puddle of polka-dot smelling up the floor in the third stall.
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