My Unbolt’s work
It was nothing serious, really…
Just some drunk kisses on the rave-up.
It was fully absurdly and freely.
Two different hues of lipsticks on one cup.
We were peers… OK. I was a bit older.
The same musical tastes and life views.
We both were like a password-protected folder…
OK. She was always losing her clues.
When I entered to the kitchen she was painting a windowsill.
(I’m sure that right here I fucked up with articles and tenses)
Yes, she was painting with a scarlet nail polish. A tiny quill.
Hellish stink. Hellish color. I swear, it was hell in all senses!
I went… and returned with a bottle of paint remover.
I just thought that red doesn’t fit. I would prefer black.
And she said, – ‘Wow… booze… Cheers, my Rover…’
And she took a sip. Only one huge sip. Only sip… and without snack.
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