****...**

Slice of indelicate prose...
a vile, and ****** rose...
so crude, even rude.

Tis better to say....

Passions fiery release
sacrificed to Aphrodite's priests.
Lust's bouquet blooms,
scent of rapture's perfume.

I enjoy enticing you
with such flowery words.

But just this one time
might I end without rhyme?
Nor ****** airs
concealed with witty flare.

Tonight...
Maybe...
Possibly...

Can we just ****?


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