French Kiss

March 16, 2009
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He was like a strong gladiator standing tall with his flowing hair sailing through the balmy, comforting breeze. His face was the frame for his virgin canvas just waiting to be painted on. Each trace of light would impact his chiseled torso and refract off of his polished features. He was sublime; I could see the rays of sunlight bombard him with a golden glow. I could hear the angels serenade me as I glided towards him. Each note sounded like a slice of heaven submerged in chocolate, basted with caramel, drenched in peanuts, smeared with whip-cream, and finished off with my favorite ingredient' a dash of love.

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