The three hundred and fortieth thing I love about us is knowing I never have to backspace away a thought here for fear you might not like it.
Why would I ever not like it? Oh, I guess that's what you mean!
Soft, so soft, your lips against mine. I am grazed by their grace and drunk on their wine. We touch and we taste, endlessly divine engrossed...
Why would I ever not like it? Oh, I guess that's what you mean!
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