"roses are red
a deep crimson hue
why am i writing this poem
when i’d much rather do
the things to your body
that would fill you with desire
so the tips of your toes
would feel like they’re on fire
your breathing would be ragged
still you’d whisper my name
you’d be feeling the passion
i’d be feeling the same
but i’m keeping this short
let me end on this note
forget a rose or a violet
dwell on the words that i’ve wrote"
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