Graveyard Of Little Muses
First of all
I must undress you of all clothes
for you to really feel, my poem.
It's not merely enough to read the words,
that sailed from my pen to paper,
for words cannot warm the skin
as a kiss does.
Surely you understand this,
better than any woman that I gave flowers
because I loved.
But I see you're not undressing,
though my verses are nude,
go away, and stray
in someone else's poem,
not in mine.
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