Arthur Crow

“O’er the ache of mauve shores erotic winds billow long & deep … Her scent drips from the sky onto bare skin, bejeweling my senses — like a tapestry of blushing petals besieged in rhythms of passion. Whispers of untamed rapture beckons my lips as I descend into her gaze, unto the sea of bliss where I shall forever drown.”


Arthur Crow
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