Possession -- Laynie Browne

Then his words are red. He builds with red towers which comely circumstances provide. She cannon abandon even that which he has entirely forgotten: the ruins of their dual bodies. His memory of being carried. Hers of walking redly towards the birth of separation.

Pictures broken at odd angles which he carries close to his chest, running.

From where is the red stone ferreted, she asks? How is it concealed ships now appear within his mineral eyes?

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