Her words are running out of her mouth, racing, gasping. Crawling, clawing to get over her teeth, tripping, stumbling, falling out. Her tongue wags lazily, not quite hitting the notes, cutting corners. Enunciation was never of value to her. Her lips only meet briefly. Casual lovers, always rushing. Quick kisses, they brush, rough and careless. Rarely will they rest to lie together. It seems too intimate.

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