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The Voices Of Them

Updated on November 25, 2017

I’m breathless from this journey.

All the wrong reasons.


His musk has nested in my nostrils, not clawing there way out; taunting me.

Moisture was building across my forehead and rising from my palms.

Everything is telling me I was foolish.

Whiplash from paranoia, when will this end?


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