In vain I wrote my name with aftershave
to permeate her skin.
And, as I hugged
her tightly to my shoulder, I still gave
no thought to the effect - for I just tugged
her T-shirt from the blade, until I bit
My teeth were really set
upon their grip, determined not to quit
until I'd marked her mine: perfect and, yet,
she leaned into me, gently, for a word
or two to draw my breath;
Was this to save
me from myself? For this was quite absurd:
these bruises would not give her all she'd crave.
"Vain man," she smiled. "You'll find I am immune."
As I had known, given she was perfumed.
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