Oh God, it would be great, wouldn't it?
These were your words, not mine.
Sweet poet, speak to me again,
I ache for your words.
Mine are redundant, recycled, rehashed, and replayed.
I ache for you, I ache for the sound you made, in your throat,
As I sucked your finger, and tickled the tip with my tongue.
Sweet poet, speak to me again,
Offer me that finger, and everything you have,
Offer it all to me,
Please, please, please.