my favorite food.
6:37 p.m.

and to think i thought you'd taste of cigarettes.

no. it was more like some mystic rain scented spice, a mixture of delicious lust with all of my pent up frustrations. they were released into you, and i don't even know if you know this, but how i so wanted you to kiss me. just to connect for a few moments and block the world out. blind me for a few minutes, and let me find some solace on the surface of your lips.

and it was as good as i imagined it would be, better even because the skies had opened up and drenched us with the tears that i never get to shed, and we were so isolated...lost in the warm cocoon of my old hoopty car with the windows so fogged up and you writing messages in the condensation. it was perfect with the exception of it having to end, because i thought you'd taste of cigarettes and you didn't...you tasted of freedom.

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