Cyranose too much for his own good
Would you dare play Cyrano To a cyberotic Roxanne?As words alone between us flow,Stir lust like love letters can. Your faults are hid behind a bush.You’re false but still commandMy heart to beat, my cheek to flush; Folly’s fervent fire you’ve fanned. I sent messages, goodness knows,I’d better sense, you’d think.My lusty scents from them aroseLike perfumed pages’ ink. Can sex scent the ether net rideLike spirits in the wind?For my wanton…