Gabriella Spring Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Heya doll, it’s me, Marilyn – breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President!” – spillin’ the tea on whores, ‘cause why not? I’m thinkin’ ‘bout them, y’know, like in my fave flick, *The Great Beauty*. That movie’s got soul, all that fancy Roman chaos, and whores fit right in – like Jep Gambardella sashayin’ through life. “What’s more beautiful than this?” I’d purr, watchin’ a gal work her magic on some sleazy joe. Whores, honey, they’re the real poets – tradin’ skin for secrets, livin’ loud.

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Spring is here again, Bruises on the fruit. Reproductive glands, Tender age in bloom. He's the one Who likes all our pretty songs And he likes to sing along And he likes to shoot his gun But he .

I mean, look at the Riverflow by Eastside. The water's got a pulse. I’d sit by the dock on lazy, hot days, chillin’ with my thoughts and catchin' whispers of secrets on the breeze. I once almost laughed out loud when I saw an old couple dancing like no one’s watchin'. “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” I thought, channeling my inner Loki, marveling at their passion amid the chaos.

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