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145–165°F No Tongue No Teeth
No, I am not afraid of you.
And your silly lips, without teeth and tongue..
I sustain the thug, that drives ballons away, I celebrate this breakup.
It was just a crush, just a little crush.
Don’t make a big fuss.
It is just mother nature, we share, a fuck or two, a heat in the wilderness of life.
Let go of everything that’s not boiling, why would you survive until the next chapter…?
Faster faster, you won’t go far.
You could be mine until I’d tell you lies.
Like I know like I know what you want..
If I feel alone, I will be crawling underneath your door, like a love letter envelope that somehow makes the lady’s mile seem possible.
Falling into emotions that shouldn’t be shared but quite a funky dance orgasm weekend, a sardine tin I feast with my fingers and oil my lips to fry the next time your lips will get to be mine, it’s a dangerous move, make a move.
What a fucking draft, this series.
I am not going to hold on much with the red wine inside that punch of feelings, it’s because you do mean a thing or three to me.
To you.
Just a two, of us.
Apart.
