Love Poetry For Couple

The town where I grew up was small, ugly and smelledlike burning blood. Most of the dads and a lot of the mums andheaps of the big brothers and sisters worked at the Freezing Works. Thousands of cows and sheep and even a few hundred pigs would get trucked in, slaughtered,chopped up and packaged in cling film each day. The burning-blood smell came from the incineratorwhere

Some injudicious thoughts about this city. Nothing else can be written. I perch in my flat on top of the Square at that dullest hour before dawn, wreathed in Happy by Clinique For Men from Farmers in the Plaza. I lurk in the mirrored department of luxury and when the girls go off to mend their hair and drink tea I spray at random. I love perfume but don't want to smell the same night

So many words to say now he'll never say though he feels their weight in silence, though he needs their meanings, he knows he won't find them, still they bite at his tongue � what he once questioned he knows for fact, what he once believed, he's long since forgotten or dreamed away � if you whisper your truths, they'll disappear, he'd say, so he never whispers them � and when he

If you have linen women, raspberry women Red and thick of the mouth, with dock-leaf women (Little light foxy spores � mind them, such women,) If you have green grape women, flour-bin women, Amber-in-forest, wild-mint-scented women, Trey-bit in church or drudging kit-bag women, Little sad bedraggled wind-has-weazened-one women, White bean women, perhaps anemone women. And harp-like facing the