Thou art not the shell, thou art thy inner whites.
For even under that, something yellow hides.
Shall I be the peeler, shall you be naked before my eyes?
The thought of your whites, do me in despise.
For I do not yearn for gleamy white.
I want to see your inner light.
So if you would offer, to spend the night.
let me see your colour, before I see your white.
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