White it was, the bed sheet,
Naked against my skin,
Secret hold, of amorous sins,
Of many desires in between.
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Like the poem, don`t like the preachy tone of the notes, I think that we all fail sometimes in our daily lives.
The tone of confession is absolutely unwarranted as most men and women are otherwise the same. The making of shroud out of your pulsating life is too dear to brood over. Kudos to you for the open exposure of the unwashed linen...