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I will paint mountains,
through skies, with soft
colours of tender dreams,
weave and dip lines into
the exotic nectar of love.

Hills and valleys,
celest bodies and flowers
search for beauty
in her eyes.

Dear poetry,
listen to my heart,
how’t beats in gentle rhythms
and stealthily dances to the
tunes of vivid verses
laid on the bed of my breasts,

I wish, yes I only wish,
I could count its ceaseless sighs…

under the sheets
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