Her mascara ran in streaksdown her facelipstick smeared across heralabaster cheeks like a porcelaindoll that had been flung aroundbefore the paint had dried....barely blinkingeyes like content little sunspoking through dark mascaracloudsshe is brokenyet whole at the same timeand she belongs 
HL37, Make Me Take It from You: Erotic Poetry and Short Stories
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