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Passion for Kirsty.
She reaches with a tender arm, pushing her open hand loosely against my spine. I turn in mutual pleasure, cause I know one thing she doesn't, no one has touched me like that in a long time. I can't recallthe last time someone kissed me like her and telling her that is so hard, because when someone becomes special, they become irreplaceable. But playing it cool has never been my game, I boil within the passion, I embrace the premeditated pain of losing, once again. Cause in the end, everybody leaves.
I have these blurry daydreams about waking up, midwinter, back home, in an empty apartment. The sound of the xbox buzzing is torture and the light given of the blue desktop on my HDTV is burning my eyelids shut. I look around and there are dirty dishes and clothes covering the pleasant areas of a room strange to me, the air is thick with old, used up smoke and the walls are starring at me with it's grey and judgemental spots. I scream in panic.
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