Think of a Man

You could pretend that you were never kissed
The way I kissed you, you were never raised
By passion quite this way before, or praised
And overpraised so: the philanthropist,
I managed to provide what you had missed
Through all those empty years, the way I gazed
Into your eyes, and how I seemed amazed
When you appeared for each successive tryst.

Have men not always bared their hearts to you,
Exposed such passion that you sometimes ran?
Why act as if delight were something new,
Experienced but once? Think of a man,
Not of an empty shell prepared to rue
Nothing, and grasping every straw he can.

Our Hearts, part 25