Poem, poems, poetry, poezja

PROPOSAL

You are moving too fast

With that little poem

Guerilla warfare

In the depths of your dark – green eyes

Emeralds

But she wants diamonds

Like always

Maybe she even could stoop so low and

accept the fake ones

It’s all so trite

These women

What do I need it for?

Devil knows 

Like if it was not enough

Eating strawberries

On a Saturday morning. 

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