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Perfect Kiss

We pull away from the perfect kiss
that started as the red sun
sunk below the snow-capped mountains
that we had just climbed.
You, in your signature purple jacket,
and me, cozy and warm in my faux fur
that I had grabbed as I raced out the door
after you drove to my house.
It was spur-of the moment,
yet completely rehearsed
because we’d talked about it
a couple days prior,
when I asked you to make me smile,
and you told me the story
of a perfect kiss
on a snow-capped mountain.





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