I wince when you recite to me worn lines - straight out of most unimaginative and monotonous romance novels:
“You’re the mac to my cheese, Sica”
“The bees to my knees”
“The jam to my toast”
Spread me, and dive into my sweet, tattered heart - red and gushing. I smile,
“Do you like strawberries, Yuri?”
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I believe you when you tell me I’
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