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The Other Woman.

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The Other Woman.

When I kiss you, your mouth tastes of red wine, cigarettes and infidelity, and I cannot wash away the taste of scarlet woman from my lips.
Do you think that maybe, next time I kiss you, your mouth will taste of nothing but me?
It probably won’t will it? Because if it did, kissing you would be like kissing a stranger, and when I get home, I wouldn’t be that scarlet woman anymore.
I wouldn’t taste like you.

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