A Poet in Love with Her Poetry
He started with her lips, flamboyant as he had always been, Never shy to stamp his authority... Those incisive eyes, flirtatiously gazed upon the curves where passion formed pbvious patterns on silken fabric... Brushing past them,he smiled never short of indicative smirks... How could she resist... She had to feel to describe... Her friends found her naked in the bed that night, She was wild with passion... Doctors called it Schizophrenia, She called herself A Poet in Love with Her Poetry... -Ashk