A
poem’s fine.
A
rose is better.
A
ring’s divine.
Not
so a letter…
…Of
thorns and vines
Of
words that fetter
The
finest wines;
Your
very set of
Demented
lines
Of
dreadful letters
That
drown your mind
In
bloody tatters
Of
shame and crime
Of
lustful matters…
But
you’re benign;
It
will not matter…
The
poem’s fine.
The
rose was better…
…Put
on the ring
And
burn the letter…
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