The love scene is stilled: A quiet crumpled rumpus, An ethereal tableaux Rich with touching breath; Threaded limbs. A brewing cohesion. Tossed with dog ends, Empty tea cups, And spent white mops. Crushed pillows; moulds of love knots Declare passion’s vent; Came and went, yet lingers In you finger marks And the kiss of you water glass. The window flung Churns old for new Inhaling wanton scents And painting desire’s plum hue In fresh mint.Birth sign: Aries
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