on the other hand

no man is worth this-
to be love's hostage
(damn the hunger)
but on the other hand
i have the memory
of the sweet stolen glances
and trembling hands
that push away my gown straps
the tender lips pressed to my skin
soft tongue tracing the nipples
of my imperfect breast
 
no, there is nothing  
so soothing or sweet
as the tender loving touch
that leads to the
first shy disrobing