#19265 - Her lips the colour of fury, Her skin, in the manner of old: White as the billowing towers Of cloud in the heartland of cold. Fading marks upon my body, Visions that linger in my eye Are all I now have left of her; These and the swirling, spectral sky. She matched me measure for measure, Returning each kiss and each thrust.
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Ragyo kiryuuin
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Hokuto ijuuin
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