So Much I Gazed

 So much I gazed on beauty,
that my vision is replete with it.


Contours of the body.
 Red lips.
 Voluptuous limbs.

Hair as if taken from greek statues;
always beautiful, even when uncombed,
and it falls, slightly, over white foreheads.

Faces of love, as my poetry
wanted them.
.
.
.
 in the nights of my youth,
in my nights, secretly, met.
.
.
.

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