WMD’s

Kisses my cheek with such harmony

That I can’t speak

Cool and explosive

Licking the hair away from my face

As I grip the steering wheel and steer

Deeper into the rhythm

The sound resonates

Vibrates down my column

I cant think

You touch me and my thoughts strap suicide bombs to their chest

You kiss me

And they sit in the middle of brain,

quietly about to detonate

 

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