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Our Kisses Might Taste Like Chalk

There's chalk in my mouth,

chalk on your lips,

all chalk coughed from the lungs of black blocks.


You always clap erasers with bravado,

but you're scared to touch me, ask me…


What if I help?

Write dusty words with a dusty finger,

scratch the board, leave marks you can't erase,

smooth them to nothing with the joints of my fingers.

What if I kiss you?


What if it's hard,

what if it's not what you thought it’d be,

what if its bad, what if I said

so what?


What if a kiss is like a car,

all metal and fear but inside,

inside there is just smooth leather and seats that lean back.


And the driving, oh god the driving is scary at first,

but when you roll down the windows

you feel the wind and you feel free.


And you don't always have to drive fast, baby,

one day we'll get still,

and the leather will be worn,

and your car will feel like home,

and you wont need your chalkboard erasers,

you wont need to be scared,

you can just be with me.



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