If we could live together without death's arrival as an inevitable inbetweener,
Your coyness would not be a misdemeanour.
We'd spend all eternity discussing each angle afresh,
And you'd probably go looking for rubies beside a river in Bangladesh,
Whereas I'd predictably end up somewhere really dull
Like Hull.

My love for you would continue to grow throughout this experience,
As slowly as ...

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Do not bend forward in those jeans so tight,
Pale flesh that shouldn’t see the light of day;
Lace, lace against your skin so soft and white.

Those shapely, rounded, squatting hips invite
My roving eye, lured in and led astray;
Do not bend forward in those jeans so tight.

Stretched denim curving, arcing out of sight,
With squeaking stitches pulled in every way,
Lace, lace aga...

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