Defloration

Defloration

O little virgin, timid as a dove,

Consent today to let me make of you

A fulfilled woman, proud and knowing love

In all its forms. I long to give you new

Feelings and thrills mere opiates can't match.

Let me caress your hidden secret parts

And turn them to a soft and lovely patch

That my hard spade can dig with loving arts.

And when I meet the gate that sits across

The burrow that I seek to stretch and fill.

Then I will rage and ram and butt until

I gather force to pluck the fleshly weed

And cause a fire to bloom among your moss

And plow your garden with my liquid seed.