My lady, you insulted me,
When you rejected my advance.
As every eye could plainly see,
You wanted to be in my arms.
But you are scared of what will come,
When I take you from your home,
And show to you all of the fun,
You can have when not alone.
You are the ink that fuels my pen,
Demanding always, just another line,
And when I've written yet another ten,
You ask for more, and I cannot deny.
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