Pretty flowers

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A few days later as the sun set low and the stars come out to play, we feed on the feeling  of hunger. As I awoke to the smell of something buring, I sniff the air unaware of where the oder has came from. I slugishly drape myself into my blanket and waltz into the kitchen where the scent originates Im caught of gaurd with a warm kiss to the forehead the bliss that fills my heart unwillingly gives me butterflies as the sweet smell of flowers rips through our spotted curtians.

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