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Love Is Her Own Element

A budding flower
in a vestige of Eden
chasing Gauloises
after Gauloises on the bed
at the centre of a half imagined city
as all things are barely sustained
by the human mind

I contemplate your navel
and forgive your naïve outbursts
today I feel as though I am
a thousand years old
I make trek of the saliva line
from the jutting mounds
to the divine vale of your sex

Your parents do not approve
of a fool who lists
the attributes of love
as means of sustenance
lines on a page
you are water to the soul
a means of access to the human heart

Flora is your name
an epithet full apposite
to your wild nature
we are as real at this moment
as letter after letter
poems on a page
fire beneath the skin

that rises like a natural element

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
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Editing stage: 
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Comments

a poet of love would write. We are as we profess to be, only as long as it takes for the shine to wear off. I think the parents are right. LoL
~ Geezer.
.

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certainly some don't approve of poetry. honesty is always the best way to be if a poem is bad it needs to be stated

author comment

Hello, Dalton,
There is something very intriguing about your poem that has caused me to read it several times. It has several 'elements' in itself. I feel the presence of perhaps Eve, a romantic French setting, an exhaustion but then a revival all leading up to a unique love like no other, but yet, so real it is a natural element. I will come back and read again after more comments.
Thank you!
Lavender

wow thanks Lavender, love is the same no matter how far it exists over the years

author comment
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