Behind the leaden

Monument, did Molly blow

Me up. She wet her

Lips onto my valve,

And began to huff and puff.

Inspired thus, now

Did I rise, above

The mausoleums. Hundreds

Of feet in air I

Rose, witness to such

Sights, till from my valve did my

Molly slip, groundward

Did I plunge. The breath

That held me aloft, spurted

In her hair, as I

Collapsed, behind the

Wall, deflated but content.

Mol, what a keeper.

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