your morning face exhales your night's passions
your bright big eyes reflect your wild emotions
your heaved crescent moons tell of a story so red
your lips so moist and delicious

did i dream you up did i dream it all no that can't be true how else would i know the taste of your lips how else would i still remember the feel of your soft crescents agains my rough fingers did i lose you i wake up read the newspaper scramble those eggs iron that shirt smooth that crease buy odwalla's that is all i live for neighbor's out is he looking for his lost soul and i still have time to be sad