Build up your stores by the dozens
Because I have great legs;
Helped out by my dogs I yet can carry a
Forest so far on my back,
My black jeans slimming:
There are only so many candles on a cake,
And verbs are awful things,
The way they wish to do upon the empiricisms
Like you wish to do upon,
And yet you are still a real beautiful girl:
I assure you without a doubt you are very real,
And even if it finishes me I will take what
I needs to build you the proof,
But you must be ready, a hoarder of wine;
And you must lay off kissing your husband,
Because I will have to learn to do the bruises
If I am going to make you mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem