i came for the poetry.
but, now, i come for the poets.
she came for a man 21 years her senior.
if he loves her, he should let her go.
"but she's a grown woman," he says.
she's no more a grown woman than my little brother.
oh, but those titties!
and that mint condition cunt.
i don't like to think of him, a "fellow poet," shooting his poetry across her tits like a strand of freshwater freudian pearls.
i don't want to see her end up with a broken heart...
eventually just coming here for the poetry.