Word Salsa #668

A solo no proof of light I grind of Guadalajara, recalling the old produce proper teachers called you within poverty & took a frog. The urge to a slender neck!
heat don’t you losing my plumed body was my face! It seems, & yet sacrificed to an intricate, complex, and at only one citywide abrazo of paper fortunes.

We could have seen you can’t go back!

It wasn’t born within my skin cells from mommy.
La Pasionaria we kiss the messages the light!

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