love letter

Dear anna (or is it bella?),

I’m writing you this letter

Cos I know I’ve got no stamps

Whilst you dance with your key

In the heat of post teen steam,

I sit, sip, soak like damp

As if you’re Woolworths pick’n’mix

Stupid boys steal teeth and lips

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

I wonder what could have been,

Maybe you dream, same as me,

Anyways, yours faithfully, Tommy B

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