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;
