FEELINGS, FEELINGS, FEELINGS…
the best man turns into a brute in his cave.
Especially if he’s a busy brute
a busy brute, a busy young man, young and tastefully attired smooth brute. Busy. Gentle. Brute. The questing childish nose that seeks my tits in the morning, already in the twilight of our affections, his cheeks strange with golden hairs.
Working backwards… The Rue Michel Marcell Lange…
And me walking away from JB
Who is he?
Remember him, your lover:
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