Below is the poem entitled Shrieveport, mary and me which was written by poet
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All these tender little kisses,
so lovin and dear, but not from the misses,
this potient number nine,
of glasses and silver we dine,
he take me with a hiss,
so gentle like the same of a summerful bliss,
so wed me if you can,
this lovin taste so bland,
could death be the grasp of my hand,
this secret is more than a man,
"I FOUND IT IN MY HEART,
THIS LOVE WILL TEAR US APART,"
it will never finish my friend,
for us theres no happy end.