beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

A sense of play

I’ve never lost

My sense of play

A desire for the novel

Without discarding

A sense of what is



So find what I’ve chosen

For you to wear

As affirmation

Feed my senses

As you play the coquette



And as you smile

At my reaction

But it is you

Not a pretence

To stave off inertia

But seasoning to the

Meat of my desire

It’s rare


And the sight of you

Adorned by

My design

Makes me want

With animal elegance

The wrapping never

Stays too long

On a gift

The profoundest

Of them all


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