Sonnet 536

I brusquely thrust my words into her mind
Pounding her thoughts as yet again, again,
That there her pleasured soul in wanton kind
Might cede her all and to my heart remain.
That vox of primal verse beat as a drum
Long echoing base instincts of the past,
Coarse lines that public company would so deem
Licentious, lewd, lubricious, even crass.
But soft she did embrace the libertine,
And dewey-eyed she seeming understood
The discourse there that flirted nigh obscene
And so debauched, did intimate she would;
That conversation carried on past dawn
‘Til silence blessed the stains we laid upon.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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