Just let it be.
Last words after a night wich wasn’t close to perfect… because it was perfect.

You mentioned that your body isn’t the way it should be. I didn’t get it. You weren’t smart enogh. Hm. I didn’t know what you meant. The last 22 hours you showed, explained and discussed about anything with me. You were the best kisser I ever met, i swear. You don’t like it to be trimmed completely. I loved you for that. You love Bob Dylan, you are one of those slow- acting- women wich aren’t just rare, they are nearly died out.
Your sweat smelled like gold and diamants look like.
And you dislike your… belly. Hm? I loved it. Whatever you hate, I didn’t see it.
You hated your hair. Even that… I never’ll unterstand. Brown-blondish hair. Gosh. I loved the grip of it. Loved the smell of it. It always, always was perfect. Like your whole body. I miss it. Miss you.
Smoking.
Looking.
Searching.
Waiting.
Laughing.
Explaining…. dreaming.
You’re fucking perfect.

Wonder if I ever see you again.

What makes a person perfect?
Wondering? Well, they don’t know you.

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