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| Artist Unknown |
Last night I tasted love, and it was sweet. Tasted like fruit juice. I've always heard people rant and rave about how someone prepares a meal, but I never hear anyone appreciate the way a beverage is poured.
Last night, my cup runneth over. Is it a mess when you look forward to the clean-up? More like a desired act of service. Honored to wipe up with a warm rag.
Last night spilling over was the intent. Gushing was the goal.
Last night I tasted love and today my mouth waters for more.