Faceting

Well do you have any idea
What you’d be getting in for

If I were free to be truely myself
Unafraid of critical judgement?

Like a puppy newly whelped I’d be
Stumbling about to gain steady feet

Chirping and flitting around the house
More gay than the proudest parakeet

Pouncing upon your sheets
Like a kitten of endless leaps

Then burrowing against skin
To breathe in the taste of sin