What is this magic, Woman.
What spell have you cast on me,
With these words that mean
So little one-by-one,
Yet so intensely touch me,
Massed into poetry and
Placed before me,
Ensnaring my heart and soul,
And bringing me to
An inner ecstasy,
My body's never known?
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sensuous woman
reads and writes body on fire
exploring desires
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the inner woman
only poet gets to see
secret seductress
----
appears in my dreams
honorable succubus
seeking her lover
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she was wandering
fearing her strange wants and needs
longing to walk their path
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words softly woven
thoughts sheer and diaphanous
i see you through them
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feared to share her dreams
her secret censored desires
he wished would come true
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you've let me touch you
you've felt pleasure from my words
please don't turn away
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slowly with intent
you exposed yourself to me
begged words to take you
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i know your secrets
perhaps better than you think
what you read
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poets know this much
people may go up and down
true love only grows
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this shy young woman
appreciates poet's age
love and respect
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"I have a confession," she said, looking at the ground.
He looked at her, waiting.
"I once posed nude for a painting..."
"Is that all?" he asked, laughing, and putting his hands on her shoulders.
"There's more. We're going to Paris tomorrow and my nude portrait hangs in the dining room of that restaurant you want to eat at."
"Really!" he replied, taking her in his arms. "Now I really want us to eat there and see how many diners look like they're wondering if it's you!"
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