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An interrupting sky held her eye, while stitches were unpicked and memories were licked,to the wrenching wenching bone she’d rode to reveal, the pleasure to unpeel, skin; the treasure to unfeel, sin; Oh, what a joyful glint unshod the shoes from her lids, chased the don’t s and dos that forbids: Oh, the wrestling rustling of being unwrapped, the nestling muscling of being unmapped. “Are feeling you alright Granny?”

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