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Montanaman · M
He combs his fingers through your hair, Brushes it from the nape of your neck,
His fingers then trace the serpents path, Around the heart, from head to tail,
And lingers there...

Then, without his eyes leaving your stare,
His breath so close and sweet,
And ever so softly,
Two lips meet.

-Montana. ✍️🌹😎
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