Lye
There are vows like ink of the letters of words of a poem printed on the pages of a burned book, its ashes long since made into soap. Forever. Always. Never. I beg her to repeat these words until they are scrubbed of all meaning.
There are vows like ink of the letters of words of a poem printed on the pages of a burned book, its ashes long since made into soap. Forever. Always. Never. I beg her to repeat these words until they are scrubbed of all meaning.
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