Monday, November 12, 2012

Affectionate Poem

I think Italy has a moon in June, right?
So, how big is my heart with all those non-lovely
stars above your head? Super-beautiful
creamy stars you can smell. You are so rich
and complicated with cone roses
and the red and other woman things
so. You are the best and only
person to me, because you have
the right ghost.

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