Her eyes, her words, her touch
mesmerise me so easily; leave
me longing for her, my love.
For I do love her, that's truth,
but still my lustful aggression
is undeterred and rather, perhaps,
aggravated by my desire for her,
to the point where I lose control
… through control.

When I push roughly against her
smothering her with pressing lips
and groping hands: gentle fingers
now rough and clutching for this
Feast of flesh. I want. I want.

And my neediness overwhelms
as I paint her skin with blusher
and take and take and take
Til she is bruised and flushed
Her innocence bewildered…
And yet flattered by my need.