To be a coneisseur of love is what i dream to be. To be able to identify your taste, with only a sniff. Your aromma lingers on here And i yearn to drink from your mouth. Because, that is what you are to me, Tasteful and intoxicating, Always flourishing in time. So, she takes a drink But then she wakes... And she thinks, if only love could be bought in a bottle. But all that is left to do now, is to find temporary satisfaction With that she can buy, As she waits to be made real again.
