If she could write poetry, it would sound something like this....
So...it's like that.
Burnt down beneath a camp fire
Where it seems you can't tell
The marshmallow breath
From the sugar of skin.
To most it would seem natural
To fall in love that way
But some of us know better
Than to put our salt
Into passion
They say, it's about the talking.
And really looking into someone
Like you mean it
For a change -
In the season when skin
Smells most like the fall.
Someone should tell you
It never really lasts.
It switches over someplace
Between the first kiss
And the past.
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