a little more

each single poet owns only one religion, —

is the cult of being enamored hypnotically;

their fervent prayer is nothing but love, —

their attire, from head to toe, it's alluringly;

happiness and sadness bear one name, —

passion... (maniacal and sensual at once);

they are uniquely ones free to fix your soul,

and like antidotes, excel in dissolving pains;

the whispers of their words, perfumes you,

their delirious smile is tactile music of life;

if you're lucky enough to be kissed by them,

you'll feel their art inspiring your hopes, up;

and they'll choreograph your moon and stars

while their sun will dream with you frenetically;

seduced, you'll slowly unbutton your blouse,

a little more... — making poets much happier;

subtly, you've been lured into their secret world,

all their thrills did something to show yourself;