I went on a beat spree because you said you were coming back soon I guess I was inspired
But if my head gets in the way as per usual they won’t come out before I retire
I wrote bed instead of head was that a Freudian slip
Or maybe some foreshadowing on the fantastical tip
Whichever it is
Whatever it was
I hit delete and erased the thought I mean the word
I’m sitting in my car authoring this ode, a different day, same turd
My mind flees, running rampant on you
My eyes freeze replaying candids of you
My lips tingle, reminiscent of you
My fingers mingle, praying for you
Every fiber, every cell is in on this
Patiently marinating on imminent bliss
Hopefully
Maybe
I think
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