not just for pancakes
with syrup and a side order
of bacon.
but for affection.
for physical love, for the kiss,
the skin,
the sin of it all.
hungry
and thirsty for the wrong
kind of love,
not just a taste, not
just a crumb,
but the kind of love
that makes you weak
in the knees,
without inhibition,
the kind that fills you up
until you're satisfied,
leaving you
with a crooked smile,
a sleepy grin.
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