knowest thou of my proclivities for the perverted and the asinine. "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate." knowest thou of my struggles to reclaim the third sphere of heaven. i await thee.
These hands hold memories of men, who have died in my heart, grasping the lingering touches that have marked these palms. Beyond the forbidden promise of clasped fingers, and the reckless kissing of wrists, are whispered stories that still move me to tears.
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