Predictable, tell me something sweet
lie to me for body heat as you
try and cheat me in our bartering exchange
of unspoken words and caressing glances-more of the same
old same old I left you to forget:
Your job, not mine (to move on) so why haven't you yet?
Let's trade in friction, you say and I know
this isn't what I should get into or where I should go
or even anything I would admit to
But a kiss on my cheek and you know that I'll submit
to words like "beautiful, wonderful"
that end up being incarnations of cheap champagne
I get the point, but anyone can tell it's not the real thing.
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