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Compromising Tastes ©

Marc R. Sherland
Glasgow, Scotland

I say you are a witch and you just smile,
for burning passion has assuaged for now,
those who judge, pursue other sacred cows,
so charm me with your spells and wicked wiles.
You wrack me with such pleasure itís obscene,
to catch the glance of mirror in your eyes,
then find I have the measure of surprise,
when mixes treasure of sheer kind and mean.
So to the thumb screws of our secret pact,
you have the key and swallow it with ease,
then show me pictures, scantly rudest tact,
your threat to post these up, you little tease.
So I avert my gaze the lens may act,
theatrics may amaze and that is that.

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