I Am a Poor Poet [F4M]

I am a poor poet
[A4A]
by /u/ Eves-garden


If I were a poet,
My words would charm your ears,
my voice would slide,
honey sweet and slow
between your will and
your won’t

If I were a magician with words
I would conjure just the right phrases
to lure you in and hold you there,
dazzled by the trickery
of my sleight of hand,
too distracted to remember why you do
and why you don’t

If I were a temptress
I would tilt my head and smile
beguile
beckon you with twinkle in my eye
and sweet, forbidden things
to prise a should from your
shouldn’t.

If I were a siren,
my song would seduce you
my body would reduce you
my lust would enslave you and
my heart, my treacherous, foolish,
ungovernable heart would
make a could from  your
stalwart, soldier’s couldn’t.

If I were a goddess,
my lips would inflame you
my tongue would ignite you
my damp thighs would tremble
beneath your tongue and make a can
out of your cannnot

But I am a poor poet
and poorer still a seducer of men
or rather, of you
my charms are paltry, powerless, pitiable
against your fortress of ice
and so your will remains a won’t
your do a don’t
your shouldn’t and couldn’t and can’t
unchanged,
unmoved by my meek, small words