What can I say about your cooking that hasn't already been mentioned in the autopsy report?
Our last hug did not go well and I take full responsibility.
I want to share all your rashes.
That growth on your forehead shouts character.
You are the sand that invades my cracks.
Your bacteria completes me.
In the darkest of winter, your woolen undies warm my scrotum.
Let's honor our commitment by sharing off unneeded hair.
If I had your elegance, I'd crawl through your laundry bag.
I'm so sorry. I thought that was an ashtray.
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