Perfect Love

I heard her cry on a dark night,
and felt her moan, as she was filled
right to the hilt in the silence;
after I wondered if she was
the one to serve and share the seed
that I had spilt on her splayed thighs;

Such perfect love: it should excite
an eager play that's not tarnished
though I tore her from dreams and time;

And there she lay, her breathing harsh,
for I had used her over well;
my mouth was dry as dust, I knew
that she was thinking as the prize,
which had been carried as I spilled
and heard her cry on a dark night.