Where fore art thou Juliet?
What ponders ye conscious mind?
Ye passions for me are not but true?
What lands on ye softness of lips?
Ye subtle wetness of my kiss?

What hopes are your desire?
Ye desires are but not my hope?
Kiss with passion ye skin below,
O make my body glow.
Juliette doth love her Juliet, so…
 
 
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