You presume/assume, fair too much

A Poem by MoriartyMesa

Written by a Rake to a Harlot

Do you think me a rake, my dear?

And what brings you to such a steady conclusion of assumption?

My glance,

shift of an eye,

crack of a smirk?

If one may pick titles,

if one may presume....

Well than my dear,

you are a Harlot.

Not an educated guess,

mathematical fact!

How does one choose apparel, so.............

form fitting?

The care of the blush,

the judgment of wear.

And you think me a Rake?

A chosen selection,

care of the skin.

What attention,

what..............Vanity.

The needles stretch, forced.

over exaggerated dress, forced.

the wanted laugh, forced.

and the lifted......'drafted'.....FORCED.

And you think me a Rake?

Were the attentions you sought not gained?

Was that beyond flattery, lost?

Does the well of humbleness, went dry?

Yet, I am the Rake, for a glance, smirk,

but a Rake that knows,

I am a Rake,

if I were a woman,

I would be a Harlot.