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

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