Proletariat Love Song No.9

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Tonight, my love
I will not sing of the stars
Yes, they are beautiful
And you are beautiful
But we have no time
To waste metaphors
On the night sky
That looks on us with
Nothing but refined contempt

No bouquet for you my love
You deserve better
Than to be tricked into gratitude
By death with a ribbon

We can lie by the brook
And watch the rock erode
Or sit under the old oak
And watch the leaves assault earth
In their dying strife

Strange to look with adoration
Upon nature's beauty
Which gives less than a damn about us

I do not come tonight
To watch the sunset
Or to contemplate the waves
That erase the relics
Of those who tread in their path

I do not bring gifts
Our love is too pure
To be defiled
With commercialized seduction

I come for you
To hold you close
To hear your breath's
Amorous whisper
To taste your lips
And be blinded by the passion
That shines from your eyes

We dance
To the primal rhythms
Of nocturnal ecstasy

Safe in the knowledge
That our love
Is stronger than
The world's indifference





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