When I slip beneath the quilt and fold into your warmth, I think we are like the pages of a love letter written thirty years ago that some aging god still reads each day and then tucks back into its envelope.
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When I slip beneath the quilt and fold into your warmth, I think we are like the pages of a love letter written thirty years ago that some aging god still reads each day and then tucks back into its envelope.
Give in to the temptation. We love getting mail.
(Of course, we reserve the right to edit.)
