In the morning I told you you had such pretty eyes
as I saw them peeking up and rising over blanket hills.
You said you felt so naked, and you were.
I felt so vulnerable, and I was.
The heart on my sleeve was bursting and crumpled
on the floor from the night before.
You held me so close, but on the drive home your voice let me go.
I wished all the fruits of our passion weren't so quickly sliced,
So soon and so rushed, smeared up against the sides,
All the seeds of thoughts splitting and making a mess in our heads,
but this might make the most beautiful blend of insecurities,
and all these splattered worries
may collect themselves and mix into
the sweetest taste.
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