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I Choose You Every Time
Always into you
I Choose You Every Time
I feel like we should live in Europe, dear Asha, feel the fragrant flowers tickle our noses and hang out in a public square like a peaceful bird, waiting for the state to come and protect us from ourselves.
I seem to always place an emphasis of the pressure of our bodies when they’re together, how it creates a certain artistic motif where we keep the real real and the imaginary out there somewhere loitering in the aisle.
My occupation with your shape does no harm, in my opinion, and all the adjectives I use only serve to compound the greatness by which I measure every inch.
Above all though is your intelligence and generosity, how you offer sanctuary to the pure and unpure alike.
I ask you if you want a salad and you don’t disagree, and after I sign the receipt and get up to leave, I worry about the many ways in which the world will continue to prosecute me on my way home.
Somewhere along the spectrum of my thoughts is the truth about all this, but I’d rather just give your ass a gentle slap to make you aware of my intentions.
You seem to know what to do and what to say, never needing to hypothesize about what part of Adam’s rib you came from.