A string of pearls

You are naked, except for a string of pearls
Was ever such whiteness set against white –
Like the lace of your discarded brassiere,
Like cherry blossom tinged with nipple-pink,
Like snow in springtime, snow on clouds?

I love the pearl beyond all other precious jewels.
I would throw any other stone away; but this
Speaks of our secret femininity – just think –
A priceless thing kept hidden, deeply sacrosanct,
In folds of yielding flesh, only lover-tried!

Oh I too would wear pearls against my neck,
Their milky imperfection only serves to show
This shameless bite-mark, lately suffered!
Let me walk the streets with this – let all see
And call me whore! I take that joyfully!

Whore I am, and whore I always was, my love.
Slave to any girl who bought me with a kiss.
See these hips? How many others rocked them!
These shoulders have the scars of bites, scratches,
And hands galore have tanned my nether cheeks!

You think me Little Miss Vanilla-two-scoops?
Well you’re wrong! Treat me like a slut and see!
But oh – you make me hold my breath. You smile,
An innocent grin is spreading on your face;
Be I ever such a whore – you love me come what may!