Check the glove compartment for a passport full of stamps from all of the places that I've missed you in. Cornfields over coasts from now on. Nothing will ever feel as much like home as a sunset with the windows down on I-88. Pulling over for no reason other than infatuation.
Cold hearts get hot nights between the sheets, or either side of the lines we've drawn. Forget hushing headboards. Here's to the tennis elbow from being on top and the rug burn from you below.
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