Sonnet of Italianate Perversity

The only women in my life are brave,
If bravery consists in wearing silk
Somewhat too snug for figures of their ilk.
I love how flimsy fabric goes concave
Right at their waist; I, watchful, become brave.
My eyes just focus there, below where milk
Some slumb'ring babe might seek, or I, in guilt,
Might lick lactating nipple that I crave.

A fetish. Sigh, I know. Some philia
That feels too good for my weak moral coin
To quite resist. Resistance would annoy
Some lusty microbe god's wild cilia.
(A poor excuse, I know. I'm desperate.)

Hey. Daddy needs to suckle you, my pet.