Freudian slip,
Rules rip.
Our shirt tear,
Souls laid bare.
I'll never be your chosen one:
She called you back. You're gone.
You're luck, she didn't see u trip:
Yet your eyes still yearn my lower lip.
Rules rip.
Our shirt tear,
Souls laid bare.
I'll never be your chosen one:
She called you back. You're gone.
You're luck, she didn't see u trip:
Yet your eyes still yearn my lower lip.
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