when we kissed
you tasted burnt, like the whisper
of feathers and ashes being pulled
into an eroding star.
you tasted burnt, like the whisper
of feathers and ashes being pulled
into an eroding star.
If I ever doubt myself I just ask “WWDDOOTDDD?”
(What Would Doug Dimmadome Owner Of The Dimmsdale Dimmadome Do?)
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