in which of your positions, I'm a disaster or a miracle… which of my hemisphere grows your pulse… 𫦠does it make you react as if I'm bad for you, baby… so bad that only your lungs are able to remind you… (remind you), you love much to breathe my atmosphere
… bullet skein unfurls camouflaged vows at a random time of the day, mechanically ; mechanically, you smile, thinking of me, — thinking of me with you and without you; the time, enthusiastically, it whistles at you for you made a top choice , but you knew… you knew from the start… (since we met), there's nobody like me … [no–bod–y] π«¦