Uebercringe
An embargo on your hips dear boy;
Their mason should be shot.
For which is worse: to see or feel
The sedition of your trot?

An outrage: such salubrity
Is seduction thinly veiled
And that is an unpleasant game -
I know: I've tried and failed.

The beauty of your hips I think
Is the shape they cut in air
Like a crystal cutter's finest piece
For them -- O -- how I care!

But you must try to quell them!
Walk more sullen, dear.
That way we'll all waste far less time
In staring at your rear.

Forgive me these confessions,
For I mean no grief by them:
It's just that, well, your body
Is utterly a gem.

It really is a treasure rare
Of smoothest, purest joy,
So very sad to tell myself
You'll never be my toy.

My plaything never shall you be
For you aren't Greek in Lust
But I'll admit that I'm not too,
For me there's only love.

But I love you so intensely ***,
To hint is just to lie.
It's so tired a phrase -- but true
You're the apple of my eye!

Who knows why, 'eh, who so cares?
(I address these lines to me)
The bad fact is I kid myself,
A fact the world can see.

---
I sent it, too. Someone shoot me.
(petrofski, Sat 13 Aug 2005, 13:47, Reply)