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strange beds (1989) (Pimple) by Bill Z Bub
Above the class party, I breathe through her hair that envelops my head. beyond truth or dare, pure lust left unsaid. Remembering how I was found lying there beneath her thin body mouthing a prayer behind the good couch and under the chair. Kissing her earlobes and under her chin, delicate heaven inevitable sin. Hands behind cushions, limbs being spread, the moment now lost, the movement of dread. the yellowed still picture inside my head, a quick intake of breath upon these strange beds.

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