Sex

And what of him were a Willow
Tall and strong in December snow
Weeping single leaves from his arms
Like despensable and petty charms.
Though I admire, such it is
That I, in truth, cannot be his
When wreckless youth meets futile heart
The disaters are heedy with Bullet and Dart
And yes, I know better than to smile at you
And submit a vortex if my greatest love, imbued
With every word and movement that therefore could convey
How I long to long for you, but simply cannot obey.
So to saddle myself in sad preparation
I bolt steadfast from any temptation
And walk miles simply to avoid where you stand
Because I cannot love you with a heart that is damned.