Maidenhead On A Corpse: Conversation Between Lovers Poem by Resten Swondo

Creeping into your bower,
Pleasuring with expense,
Sparing no innocent flower
Or shiny minted pence.

T’were some lovesick beggar
Who gave his soul for free,
Outdone by a leonine dandy
Peddling influence for a fee.

I creep inside your heart
Amid the nettling thistles,
Hiding among the brambles,
Of my limping love epistles.

Love this of yourself-
Fields of fallow self-reflection,
Give yourself away for cheap
In hope of fond affection.

Now who left your maidenhead
As on a cold corpse to me?
In all you love and cherish;
What is left for me?

It was all mine to give,
And though it may be free
It was for pleasure,
All I hoped Love to be.