A Fucking Sonnet

Let me in your room, where your toys still stare
and your bedsheets still tuck in a child no
longer there. In anticipation there,
as whispered promises curl like toes

into demands. Then let me demand you
lover. Let the moment wrestle meaning
to the ground now lover. Let me breech into
your body and nicab you in living

leather, and strum you like a mad pianist
playing flute just like a drum. Let me throb
your words to sighs and slurs and your kisses
into kegel hugs. Lover, let us rob

forever of an hour. It won't miss it.
I've found a hidden hole where it will fit.