My friend bcheesecake once told me:
"When you are filled with real emotions you must find a way to express them. Or-else they may slowly and miserably kill you…"
Not exactly those words, but...
Feathers of many hues of glistening yellow,
Last night I left them under your pillow,
To sing a tune that perched in my soul without words,
To invite you to a non-mundane feast of free-birds,
“Her hips were pitching like a rowboat on a stormy sea, but her cold, aloof face said: Your eyes may shine and your teeth may grit, but none of this fine ass will you git.” —“Cotton Comes to...
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