beloved pink

Hyacinth garden

being stripped down to his amity spread

all the same, she precipitated herself into the middle of

his head

he would do anything for her desires

would she rejoice to be by his side?

his currents feel her emotional fires

confines convey but still he would ride

her advent is more eloquent than his poem

her taste sweeter than a honey muffin

he feels his need as a fulcrum for remaining lonesome

he can’t outlast her pagan passion

some curious blend

it is not hard to comprehend

he needs the ink of her beloved pink

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