Mine is of rose quartz, pink, like my gem. Fresh pressed cane juice is added to my tub. Like the cane, I am sweet and earthy. I am my Master’s pear....He tears into me, as if freshly fallen from the tree, split and protruding. The hot water relieves my thighs and hips when he loves me deeply. Accepting and nurturing his seed, in months, I labor along with my sisters, in the living waters. My love is our Master’s favorite. She is the color of cinnamon, long dark hair resting at the swell of her. You didn't put a title on this."I looked at the arrangement that drew my teacher's attention and blushed. "This wasn't meant for the band... at least, not yet." Oh?" It's a song that I'm working on writing. It's not finished." A song for your muse, huh?" Mr. Proilet asked with a gleam in his eye."Yeah," I said, reddening even more. "Another song for Kristen."Mr. Proilet glanced at it for a few moments before handing that arrangement back to me.The two of us stood near the doorway to the music. More

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