Horse Jumper of Love
bagel breath
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I open the door
Crawl in your bed stick my head
Through the storm window
Spitting crumbs
Into your backpack
You dump them out
The old sour patch
I like it stuck to my skin, dried and vacuumed
Bagel breath in the morning
Borrow my toothbrush
Even scrape your tongue
Nothing gets past
The old sour patch