Changing My Mind

Were I to kiss your cheek , I'd use my lips
To write fine poetry upon your face;  
Your pores would feed me flavours - each one tips  
Me over, with a fragrance that I'd trace  
Until I was tongue tied. And your redress  
Would offer me a freedom, which outlines  
The edge you'd have me follow; as you press  
Advantage with your instinct; this inclines  
You to enslave me just as I'd have wished:  
In subtle ways, that cannot be ignored;  
You know here is the cunt; but if you've dished  
Me up too slowly, I'll be cool and bored  
By your trivial ego: watch the bleak  
Look in my eyes, as I walk past your cheek.