the other woman.
you called me honey-honey one time
but i still tell everyone that was your name for me
when i fill their organs with sugary accounts of us
and you never-ever kissed me on the mouth
i’m sure that was the agreement you’d come to with her
but honey-honey, your tongue tastes so good
i stored your sticky-sweet in my taste buds
and i pop them and swallow
when i’m craving love story syrup
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