She cannot say what we did last night,
Or in the afternoon that day.
She cannot risk a hasty flight,
Of details where her virtues stray.
She cannot pay the price for sins,
Committed in her lover’s bed.
She cannot thwart her own wild whim
To suck on someone else’s head.
She cannot keep her own hands,
From groping for another’s touch.
She cannot stand her own dry lands,
With waters close enough to clutch.
And thus she gropes with dry hands
For moist soil to fill her land.
And disregards the price of sin
To play in bed, unleash her whim.
Just as we did that night, that day,
When she took flight and virtue strayed.
Warren Augustus de Guzman
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/indulgence/
