Seeing you at my yard, I accosted.
Meeting you at my threshold, I
talked.
Receiving you in the hall, I
chatted.
Letting you in, I gave you a
dinner.
Taking it granted that I would
consent,
If you enter my bedroom, you’re
mistaken.
It doesn’t mean that I was faking
love to you
But that my guilt has shut the
bedroom door.
15.11.2015
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