The Coquette's Curse

This poem deals with snobbery and how adeptly some people use it even in the most intimate of relationships; and furthermore how those on the receiving end of it freely allow themselves to be used.

By Stanley Collymore

 

You would like for us to get married, you say. What an

uncanny and utterly preposterous idea! And by the

way, what brought that crazy notion on? As it

couldn’t be anything I’ve said to you or

encouragingly have done; for you

know me well enough to fully

concede that I always deal

with realities not flights

of delusional fantasy.

 

Besides, what’s in it for me? For evidently you’ve no class,

social status, no background to speak of or any pedigree

that’s worth tuppance to me; and speaking of money

you’ve none to shout about as without a doubt you’re the

very epitome of reckless impecuniosity: a spendthrift who

embarrassingly relies quite heavily on me to always

bale you out financially. Furthermore, you’ve

nothing in this earthly life that credibly or even

remotely would make me consider you to

be an asset societally let alone seriously

tempt me to ever become your wife.

 

And when it comes to crucial matters of cultural enlightenment like

for instance basic education, yours isn’t the kind of situation I could

flatteringly or even boastfully casually bring up in polite conversation,

or without total mortification to me or fear of the consternation and

likely alienation that it would bring from those who I favourably

regard as friends or hobnob with in high society ever disclose

to them the full extent of this unorthodox relationship that

clandestinely but sensibly exists between you and me.

 

But undeniably you have your uses as we both well know;

for among the sheets you’re an indomitable livewire

and veritable dynamo. A fearless tiger on the prowl;

a man inexorably and completely possessed and

whose consummate zest cheek by jowl

easily unlocks, ravishingly stokes,

tormentently sustains and gratifyingly

sates the carnal passion in me, driving

me on amidst the indulgent atmosphere

of my unbridled lechery to

indescribable heights of

stratospheric ecstasy; as audaciously, dexterously

knowledgeably, quite diligently and with aplomb you

plunge yourself endlessly deeper and indomitably

into the swirling waters of my feminine dam.

 

Where spiritedly from within their aqueous embrace

and my impassioned ardour afire with an agonizingly and

wholly uncontrollable, pent-up lust; you oh so delightfully in

ferocious forays release apace the contents therein in a frenzied,

maddening and unstoppable rush! A customary, interminably

lascivious onslaught that deranges and quite literally

defencelessly tears me apart; and with my whole body

convulsively vibrating like a well-hammered drum it’s easy to

discern even in the midst of the enervating haze of my pleasurable

exploitation, which I most willingly and wholeheartedly support,

to amusingly appreciate and fully understand why in France

this thoroughly surreal and near death experience that you

habitually, efficiently and pitilessly provoke in me

attracts the apposite sobriquet of la petite mort.

 

But sex on its own however appealing or satisfying it

might be, and your delivery of it is undeniably the

best I’ll readily agree, just isn’t enough, I must

truthfully confess, to induce someone

like me, regardless of how disposed

I am to you sexually, to wantonly

divest myself of all commonsense,

social propriety or worst still my sanity

by gratuitously getting hitched to what basically is

a nobody; who furthermore, and let’s openly face facts,

is acceleratedly going nowhere fast, and we both know that!

 

And were I to foolishly yield to what you’re entreatingly demanding

of me know for certain that it would undeniably put me in the most

compromising of positions, creating an intolerable situation that

in itself would be suffocatingly wrong and also categorically

make me the laughing stock of everyone. So while I’m most happy to

have you as my bit on the side and uncomplainingly at anytime that you

wish provide you with those mouth-watering rides that deliver such

euphoric bliss to me, let’s be practical about this and stick firmly

with sex which is infinitely more appropriate for you and me,

and permanently forget all idealistic thoughts of matrimony.

 

© Stanley V. Collymore

21 February 2013.