My love is of a birth as vile
As e'er a man could find himself to be.
Leading saints to taint Eve's virgin smile,
With compassion nowhere eyes can see.
.
His touch falls short of stirring me to wake,
Though he ranked himself among romancers.
Thinking, for me, a lighter load he makes.
Instead, a catalyst for all my body's cancers.
.
He, when insecure, casts the starting stone.
My form fairer, a thousand fold, than his.
His jealous critiques, from vanity, has grown.
His love redeems the villain that he is.
