Oh and you, with your dangerous mouth.
I cannot even think the color of your eyes,
but your exact mouth better than first fruit
and I cannot imagine anything else.
I would have kissed you for a thousand nights,
a thousand and one.
Your mouth the only thing
to make me stop telling stories,
and we knew that to stop telling stories
meant my destruction; I didn’t care.
Your mouth with its clever tricks
even clever deceptions and when you whispered
that you missed me I wondered
if it was true or
just a slip of the tongue.
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