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JVL: Chapter Eleven

A Chapter by r

Grasses brushed merely as high as halfway up black legs, making the black form exposed, and violent wind full of chill ruffled he..

If I were...

A Poem by Saint No-One

I wish I were a cartographer,So I could map the lines of your body,Each scar, each line in your silken palms,The laugh lines when you smile wide and c..