His urine smelled like pumpkin pie. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you what it tasted like. I could only tell you that I didn't believe in marriage. Partially because I don't want rice in my ear. You turned away clutching your fine plastic cutlery, cigarette drooping flawless from your lips. Your body was hidden in the moon-lit crowd of millions who seemed too invisible to be standing there. The train crept eastward. You were aboard waving so long to life. And I told you of days when there were nothing but cold things to lean against. Only once in every blue lobster can someone like you bring forth her warm butterscotch ways. You had the power to melt my overture and fingerprints. We invented something fresh and quenching, and now I'm left simply missing your goose bumps. In the morning I asked if you'd miss simple minds singing the songs on our soundtrack. The one which we would dance until orgasms and past. (The one worth millions we said we'd never sell). You turned away clutching your fine blank pages, which you know as well as I do, will now turn brittle before being filled.Birth sign: Sagittarius
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