Take off your scarf;
let me see your birthmark.
Your shoes and socks conspire to free
the decadent scent of musk and thrush.
I rush to dismiss the shirt that masks
the frowning folds of your stomach.
You unloosen the lace and elastic
that embrace your declining breasts.
My kiss eats the auburn stuck to your lips,
exposing their natural pallor.
I unseat my glasses and hasten
to unveil the frame from which judgement hangs,
graciously awaiting the switch’s
execution – swift pardon of darkness.
Yet our flaws are not reciprocal –
eternal cause for negotiation.
