It's your smooches so golden
And seeing the colour of your skin
Glistening in the light above;
Your fragrance from your sweat
And your ever-reflecting glares
And I miss talking to you--
Will we ever again?
Or have you really let me go
And want a real no show?
I won't beg and plead
But you are more than a need;
You are the conversation of souls
To whom my heart has been sold.
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