My Own Little Mystery
I think it was your eyes, they are to me,
So beautiful, serene, a perfect dream.
Wound up, flustered, lost, amazed and alive.
More so than anyone could imagine to be.
With your skin of copper, that tastes so sweet,
Along you hips, for your sweet ecstasy.
Blinded by my own hidden reveries,
What it is that gets me, I still can't see.
I know you've been hurt, I hear your plea,
Open your heart and give me the key.
I don't know what they say or do or see,
But I promise, they don't get you like me.
See, sometimes your body makes me wonder,
About how perfect you feel against me...
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