secrets

he loves my dirty little secrets.

he carries them around in
his head like an ancient book
of mythology,
every recollection captured
in lascivious curiosity.

if i was a gorgon,
he would be stone
his perverted fascination
his undoing- no silver shield
strong enough to
deflect my trespasses.

if i was a siren,
he would be
shipwrecked
adrift on the cruel sea
swimming through my
perilous waters
to reach my waiting shore.

aphrodite in her
erotic excursions
knew well the price of passion.
yet no tide of jealous hearts,
no assault of sordid emotion,
no onslaught of temporary insanity
can untie this knot
between us because

he loves my dirty little secrets.

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