By: Feign~

All poets write of love,
of blonde, brown, black, wind-tossed hair
and brown, blue, green and hazel eyes
diaphanous gowns that dance around
the perfect figure.
Breathless sighs and long goodbyes
kisses sweet on honeyed lips
underneath a perfect moonlit night
flowers’ scent and fair delights
butterflies in endless flight
never was sweet touch refused
it’s always magical when a caress
slowly strokes down perfect breast
then soft breeze bring them closer still
to warmth of skin, and wantonness
these are the perfect nights
of perfect lover’s tales
I’ve been there and I know
I’d wrap myself romantically
and once again there go
I will not shun the past
nor ever leave a love so sweet
or forget the rush
I felt the night my love walked by
in hand a toilet brush…..
romance alone, is not enough.