Tears evoke a taste as memorable as honey. How it passes there and back again like a tear drop glistening in moonlight. I relentlessly desire cotton candy lollipops. I sense wild vapors of sweet champagne in your larynx. The elves that play in the toasters wash their drum sticks in honey and sing strikingly colored anthems in perfect harmonious pleasure. Wood nymphs sprinkle your path with rose petals while you dance and prowl in the sequined moonlight with leftover cupcake sprinkles.
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