KJ Sutton

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It smells of old sweat, from days of not washing it, from walking everywhere, from this, and I love it because she wouldn’t let anybody else smell it on her. She looks at me deeply, to the darkest part of me, a place so deep that my own soul would not even venture there, and she whispers, ‘Oh, Lucifer.’ And with those words, I am prepared to receive the Lord. I
Sunburn
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