For a charm to match your eyes,
I would pull the stars from the skies.
But symbols of love don’t matter much,
Compared to the fervor of your touch.
My unbridled passion of blazing desire
Swallows my loins’ forest with wildfire.
The heat is so hot I tremble with craze.
Irrecoverably forlorn for all of my days.
The point of this poem, in case you missed it,
Is my desperate need for your whisker biscuit.
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