what a waste i could've been your lover

now the midnight talk made me head spinning
i wish i remembered half the things he/we said
i just find it hard to forget
the giggles
in between

after norah jones filled my candle-lit room,
together with w's baby love lovely pictorials
the world in here smelt, spelt

thought there's always one thing at the back of my mind
as tlf named it "the fidgetness"
the little vague but colourful memories of rue de royale and grand central station
oh if i could only taste the big apple this christmas
i wish it wouldn't taste half as good as paul lafayet's apple crumble
plesh no.
i die.

p.s. and off i twirl to my snowflakes and christmas tree

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