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Kiss Me A Gentle Touch

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Kiss me a gentle touch with mirrors too fading light
September’s cognac with a breath on my neck. As the
autumn bleeds out, the wind song too, with whispers
of lips on your skin. Intoxicating and discarding with
a scent of smoke as amber leaves fall to rust. In a
house of Gotham’s blue lights of unfiltered memories
and the bed a museum of everything unsaid. With mirrors
too fading light as the combo glows a menthol cigarette.
Calling for Phillip Morris. 

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