Not overcooked. Not undercooked. Just all half-baked goodness in every write.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Joking
She had Smiled her smile Wiled her wile Beguiled her guile Style so wild It crackled Hot wax in a candle Sweet like funny flowing from honey A currency of free floating freely A kiss to my ear without a touch But a touch of her all the same
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