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Hello my guide, my ill-advised guide. I see you on my shoulder,  wings bent and mocking a pearl’s features. Do they gleam with motive or ill-intent that pushes me towards the moving shadows
slippery devil clash into my mind feels delicious naughty of dangerous time   so, if I stay with you I might crave a short walk on the wild side
I was caught between a rock and a hard place. The ancient cliché was literal. I was in the dust storm and the moon seemed tiny. 18 was the number and it seemed it would stay that way. 22 was the catch; I was ready for release.
My love For thunderclouds And rainy nights Is like my love For you   Cold and depressing.  
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