Curly Armada Poem by Luca Menin
Curly Armada
Curly armada, temple the sky,
Dress of hearty cuddles
When she walks of high hill and shape lips.
Of fire passion, her month disbelieve- her voice.
Eyes slam the doors,
Swap corners hold.
Nail finger pierces her skin talk.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
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4/19/2024 3:41:35 PM # 1.0.0.1119
