Saturday, September 8, 2012


Your love, my Dear is like a drug.
Sweet, syrupy, sometimes abrupt.
Dark with meaning, Light with candour.

The companionable silences,
comfortable counterparts to the exuberant exchanges that follow.

Like butter on toast, a rose to my nose.
Tell me darling whenceforth I should go.
For your arms my love, are inviting me so.

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