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What the world doesn't know is that you and me
are a living canvas of emotions,
pure art that in the bedroom created
furtive experiences, passions.
We are music in sensual concert,
ardent rhythm that the bed harmonises,
erotic melody in true love,
poetry that the skin poeticises.
They ignore that in rhymes our romance
our romance, cheesy and passionate,
verses written in flesh, soul and list
of abstract lovers, never equalled.
Classical and modern at the same time,
eternal art, perpetual intoxication.