Theme Poem: That satisfaction she gives me I can’t ever find, what she doesn’t I probably don’t need. When she cries it is not in pain. Who can tell me who she is? WELLS AT MIDNIGHT POEM BOOK COLLECTION Vo.18 CHAPTER 50



Fresh scrumptious rosebud, jutting with pulsating nod,

Folded like a knight covered in layered black robes,

Decorated valance openly welcome inlay pinkness,

Deceptively weeps even at one gentle touch.


I called at times you well late, deep into the night,

Wondering if this is not in joyful happiness,

Knowing the cover of darkness both startle and excite,

Its shade of coziness is for your coyness to laugh.


When in turn my shaft approach like a duel,

Cowered but are your commodious advances not mutual?

Conflict it appears but without pains,

Not from my repeated thrusts deep and calming.


Cry again if you must, even after this fancy act,

Together we echoed sounds of stormy rain,

Dripping aftermath of exhilarating wrestle,

Rosebud calmed, though its drain took a happy toll.

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