Nay, why should you mock me with your eyes,
Which are warm afar and cold amidst others?
Why should you, dear, peck me with your nose,
Neither high, nor sharp but is only coarse?
Why should you torment me with your lips,
Which are my sole lust, albeit its oddity?
Skin, dull as coffee and bust without contours,
Why should you haunt me with them?
Of no grace in walk, of no romance in talk,
Why should you still shake me, when present?
Or why should I hound you, heads on heels,
Against all odds, for a trespass?
Is it due to my conquest of you, your
Modesty, and you, the forbidden fruit?
Rare to get and hard to reach
as it is, it grows dear, to own.
03.02.2001, Pmdi
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