POW! Right on the Kisser!/b>
In my best dreams you plant one (POW! Right on the kisser!)
but not with your fists, my dear, war’s touch is fiercer
than lips I aspire to, and tastes more like passion, chance given,
poor heart so enraptured by glances. By mercies I’m riven,
feel hog-tied and gagged in your presence, my soul ice,
blood...
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