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Sexuality Other
Submitted On Feb2/09 Hits 4839 Summary:
A lonely horse on a cold snowy night… Dreaming of memories-past.
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Yet another lonely winter night, alone by the roaring fire wishing, wanting, ever so hoping that my love would arrive. Out the window the snow gracefully falls and piles on the windowsill; it looks cold… but not as cold as it is in here. “I can’t stand it anymore, this solitude, this confinement is torture… this silence is deafening.” The room is cluttered with dead and dried herbs that hang from rope and drape from the ceiling, wilted roses go around the room, the furniture as antique as the very walls in which they dwell in; and I the white stallion with gray leggings and a soft silk unbuttoned shirt, that sits at the edge of the large oak bed with his legs crossed. I uncross my legs and stand. My attention called once more to the frosted window, still…nothing. I make my way through the maze of herbs to a counter where a large brass phonograph resides. I wind it and gently place the needle down on the record. The song fills the room. It is a sad song, most befitt...
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