My teeth never feels as clean as it does unless we brushed side by side, my mouth foaming over your hand as you try and avoid it, but I provoke you enough to make sure my foam lands right on your hand anyway.
There are days, I admit, when I feel I will go mad if I choose to love you long enough. Madly.
There are days, I admit, when I feel I will go mad if I choose to love you long enough. Madly.