Richard, a poem.

Voice, that could crush a soul with a single word.
Hair, a flowing black waterfall met at the scalp by blonde growing in.
Eyes, one glance could kill a man yet leave him wanting more.
Touch, so sweet and gentle but rough and painful if needed.
Richard, the perfect being, a true gift apon this earth, the one thing that can make a dead heart begin to beat.
Richard, the one, the only.

And that concluded sappy trash Al wrote when he was drunk.

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