Running, running through fields of glee,
So happy; content, just you and me.
A picnic basket, a carton of jam,
A love-heart shaped sandwich; mustard and ham.
Engrossed in conversation: tête-à-tête
With souls entwined, even before we met.
I kiss your puss under the glorious sunset
I touch your labia; I feel it sweat.
Misled souls Oh! Woe are we,
Divine intervention; a dream I see.
Purity, our love ‘tis but a sham,
Followers of sheep; we are but lambs.
An infatuation, as poisonous as lead[1]
Our passion; its waxy skin has been shed.
Lest we trick our hearts; so red,
I part with you my ejaculate, for now: I am dead.
this is about as gross as the bunny post, I don't like it :'(
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