What was the last thing you mumbled to me inside the kiss in the corner of bergmannstrasse and
the street where we had
our morning coffee and pretzels,
I couldn't hear it.
Maybe you said "I'll miss you" or
"tea for two" or
"cookies and blues" or
"I need to move" or
"I made a cake for you" or
"I'll sing to you" or
"you are so smooth" or
"beautiful you" .
Now it occupies me, my head, my thoughts, the not-knowing if you talked something about cakes, or missing, or kissing or trains or veins or babies or pretzels.
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