We are not making love, we are making poetry.
This is not a love poem. Let us not insult each other By wasting pretty words Or precious time. We are not of the same cut As those romantics, Those who see eternity In the face of flowers. This muse has already, Willingly, Spread her legs, Allowed you to taste her sweetness, To feel the silkiness Of her petals Against your tongue, And pluck, Understanding that where there...Read On