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Feb 2015
Your eyes aren't stars
That eclipse the night;
Your lips aren't balm
That soothe my blight;
Your ******* aren't downy
To allay my fright;
Your arms aren't limbs
For carving your fight;
Your legs aren't vices
That hold me tight.

But you are the embodiment
Of a poet's delight.
Francie Lynch
Written by
Francie Lynch
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