I thought all women were books

You are not a book at at all
I thought all women were books
But you are painting
And the most romantic about you
is not your latin face of rest
but that your romance
is real
and your roman stature
is as real
as it is pretty

and you are pretty
You are not only 
a painting
you shine

and there is so many
futures hidden in you

So I looked away again
today

And you looked to me
and spoke faintly through
a roman wall

I rest
You arrest
my heart.
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7 responses to “I thought all women were books

  1. Thanks for your comment, Hayley. Honoured. // So easy to write these days. Yeah. When romantic love meets real love. What happens ? // Bring this poem on as much as you like.

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