Further to my post on 'Kissing' two days ago, and the absence of romance in the discussion about the chemicals that surge into the brain when the lips touch. Grateful to Chris Carr of Norwich in today's Letters to the (Telegraph) Editor for the following poem.
My cortisol
Is for my moll,
And so's my oxytocin.
The level of the both is raised
By those tight jeans she rocks in.
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"To live is like love, all reason is against it, and all healthy instinct for it." Samuel Butler
"The great question which I have not been able to answer is, "What does a woman want?" Freud.
"A simple I love you means more than money". Frank Sinatra
I read these somewhere.
What do you think?
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