He keeps a gladiator costume in his manly wardrobe
He is not a fighter
He reads the war in me
He sees my white flag every-time he enters my world
He stands tall in the battlefield of love.
He simmers the color of red
He needs the shade of me!
He captures an eye for the longest time
He locks the front door and throws away the key
His watchful smile energise a willing hostage.
His lips sweetly demand my undivided attention
His touch shivers...the very breath of me
His body sways to the banjo of cupids harp
He is smooth as velvet
His voice invades all that I am!
He is passion without the Act!
He is Art? with all the passion
He is real with tongue
His heart is as free as mine
He is rebel of his flag.
He is all of lovers dreams
His very soul I have seen!
He is everything and more
His always knocking on my door
He is pure of loving lust
Mr Tadhgus Maximus.
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Comments about this poem (Tadhgus Maximus by Martina Moriarty )
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