Love Brag Poem

Yah. I know how to please.

I am a celestial choir
and sing my proud anthem
with one mighty moan.

I show the boys
a black and white photo
of my silky thigh bones-
and who is to blame?
 
I’m their golden goddess of pleasure

and am graced by fine hands
and a musk scented stride.

It's more than rumour
that brings them 

to my ripe acres of heat

I lay each of them down
awake and asleep 

where they give way
like ships' timber

and howl back at me

Queen of the Boudoir
waker of dreams
 
I'm here to tell all

it's just what it
just what it
just what it

seems.