Let Me Trade

So, Saint Paul, you faced a thorn in your flesh? I can hardly hide my envy tonight. Softer and smoother than hay in the creche - My cross does her best when I dim the light. No threat of pain, unless it might service promise of pleasures that she seeks to give. Aroused ev'n more because I am nervous, she loves most the sin she'll never forgive. Keenly attuned to fantasy's wishes, she pushes me down, proves herself master. Then she reclines with grin so malicious, as well-taught student courts his disaster. Paul, I'll take black thorn instead of white thighs. Let me trade. Let me trade! Let me trade!!! Lies ... 5 May 2023