And the thought of you glides through my chest, and scoops me hollow. I don't want to wash the blankets I brought with me because they still smell of you sleeping and us making love. I've washed every single item of clothing, I can't stand it when the smell of your house, the smell of YOUR house, rises up and brings unbidden memories. But I cannot wash the blankets.


  • Luna Kay
  • Wocket

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