Iara Aimer


Dominicus, thou art the worshiped day, methinks sanctified by courtesans feal. Thy death is the hue of shame, for thou art shade before my beauty, my lordly triumph is to sight thee vanish and my lips welded with the glance godlike and blissful of the pool it saturated. The cohort of luminary and celestial bodies enkindles the sky, fiery, merely to

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