to the muse
10:55 a.m.

Your soul lights a fire within me. A fire which has been smoldering for thousands of years. You are young, but not naive. Your words are the words of my soul. I want to taste your skin--your salt--your essence. I want to run my hands all over you. I want to posess you. I want to be inside of you. I want to be you.

~protoplast

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