Super Bowl Weekend & A Little Agent Provocateur 

Frankenstein’s body 
    was left in the back room 
 with numerous barmaids 
clandestine scene with bare shreds
    of clothing, desire induced rips 
        clips no longer fasten 
   the ever delicate exposure 
      of a b cup size breast 
   while cradled in the tulle fabric 
      silk ribbons tied around the body 
   which hold various body organs 
        in place — terror induced screams 
    offered up in a moment of tantalised
         flesh on flesh — gorgeous flesh 
              in fact — regardless 
      of the mental teeter totter games 
   
     “Oh, what can I do with you?” 
“Me? In these scraps?”
   “You don’t see, these are £175 
Agent Provocateur’s red crushed velvet!”
    “Boundless potential and imagination 
 seeks resolution, I was moved
    inspired to purchase this.”
  “What is it?”
“You want to put it on your body?”
   “Fine, just give it to me!”
    “As you wish!”
         “Look at me!”
       “I cannot!”
    “Why?” 
    “Because my thoughts and fondness
          for you need to diminish.”
         “What?! Why?”
       “You are too beautiful & caring;
               I’m a black hole — 
           no love”
     “That’s bullshit, and you know it!”
   “Think what you want, I give zero 
        fucks.”
  “Clearly, that genuinely explains 
      your behaviour and vulnerability. 
           Denial suits you.”