Crooked Street Signs

You don’t hear about nights full of weird;
The strange secrets that were shared with my beard,
In the dark, as you sat on my lap,
Freshly awoken from your second afternoon nap.

I peeled you off of me, careful not to let you slip
And traced my thumb across the bottom of your lip,
As my off hand makes its way to your tummy.
Little did I know, tickling is not considered funny.

But, popping my zits apparently is.
That’s life when you fall in love as kids.


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