Turning to Gentleness

I like to hear him talk of all the cost
It takes to turn to gentleness; obliged
By quiet grace, I hope, this is not lost
On him, as he insists, once he's contrived
His pleasure in my "fuck holes", he must spoil
Me for all other gentlemen who seek
To fill my head with notions: these just boil
Away to nothing, though I'm mild and meek:
The dark bloom he plants in me saps their lines
And saturnine ambitions; these are caught
Entirely short, dissected in those times
I feel direction and controls he's sought
To stand by me always; if I feel lost,
I recollect his talk of all that cost.