If only I were a hundred degree weather and the thought of me made you sweat If only you were the water in my teapot and I the flame beneath you I could heat you up, make you boil and feel your warmth slide down my throat If only I lived in your heart pumped like blood to your limbs meeting an unequivocable need for motion And if only when the moon is up you would rest on me as a pillow I will comfort you and retain your indention in the morning.
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