On Being Blanket and Warm in Winter
When her snow soft lips would winter sweet nothings (in my ear) her December cinder soothe under wool would fire flesh, making my Autumn heart smile from my chest.
when your fingers snap from crossing them so hard
When her snow soft lips would winter sweet nothings (in my ear) her December cinder soothe under wool would fire flesh, making my Autumn heart smile from my chest.
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