Fiction; a Wanderlust Excerpt.
Fiction has nothing on you, pretty, dirty girl. In fact, nobody does.
The universe envied you. For they couldn't guide me the way the freckles scattered across your back do.
Stars glare down at us as I trail my fingers down each of those dusky dots; using them as a map
that guides me home. If only they knew,
When I think of Home, I think of you.
ā I was lost but now I'm found.
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