believe me, poet with this love
proposition, least. my love is never
fairer than my eloquences that seep
through your affections as night
breeze or sweet music and negotiate
you like a yoyo. that this dense poverty
of words is your seduction is my craft,
my licence to kill you sincerely.
Eat with cutlery.
a taste for caviar.
And Mona Lisa.
invest in a night-dress.