Is It Poetry
Your brazeness cannot distract
from the fack that your utters are
ull and need milking as
i have my own truck
i will take all
The fire in your forest of trees is so hot
i rush to your aid with a bucket
my mouth and my tounge.
as i curb the path of the flames
the fire only rages much hotter.
Your mouth denied for so long canna any longer
i fear for its safety as well.
The art of in the curve shape and its swril
only brings me to flames
in your rear.
You are my love your plum do i tast all of
the year juicyit is the heart
of my plum
.As always i fall into you just by your looks
be my dear..lovingly falling
forever inside you...) it(s plush..
) it(s love..: >) it(s..
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(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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