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Prowling The little things we do together to give up life. The percolating coffee, your aromatic breath, the dream that glues your eyelids to my cheek. We both relent relentlessly. Your hair flows to its end, a natural cascade, a velvet avalanche buries my hands. In motion paralyzed, we prowl each other's hunting grounds. Day breaks, our backs turned to the light in dark refusal.
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