Just another dead poet 

When you hunger you crave for the touch of her fingertips, 

The taste of her luscious lips,

An appetite that can only be cured by running your hands down her curvy hips

At the end of the night 

When your mind takes flight

Your only dream is of holding her tight.

Engulfed in endless desire

Burning inside as a wild fire

Trying to extinguish would only lead to satire

To be enveloped in love and to not show it

To understand love and to never know it

That’s what it’s like to live life as just another dead poet 

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