small crimes

in love, if you're not losing your mind,
it means you waste your time, isn't it?

the breast of the muses is scorching…
lips bit one other for so much unkissed

the small crimes of longing are smiling,
laying on my bed, listening to bedding

naturally, who's getting mood to write
when all body is so as trapped in love

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my coo-ca-choo

oh yeah

as sweet as a sin...

mille fois

shh... breathe...

one more kiss...🥂

face à face

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spinning my mind