She kissed me. She likes to kiss. I do too, just not her. She's the easy option. She's the cop out. It's not her fault, she's a nice girl. Annoying at times, but who isn't? Soon I'll pluck her first petal. She loves me. Then the next. She loves me not. I'll work my way around her body. She loves me. Dissecting her piece by piece. She loves me not. Eventually I'll get bored. She loves me. My deft touch will yank that last petal and set it sailing in the wind, never to be heard from again. She loves me not.
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