De Gustibus Non Disputandum Est Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

I'm writing
with carnations at my side.
On one pinked, ruby rim
I press my lips.
Its musky scent
I suck in gentle sips.
Have I some rule
of tact or taste defied?
The intimate
is earned through modesty.
Who breaks
a strict taboo or sacred rite?
One person's dread's
another one's delight.
Will you explore
forbidden realms with me
with blushing cheeks
on tablecloth or sheet?
I seek to taste and feed
illicit bliss.
Forgive me
if I'm forward, indiscreet.
Please don't deny me.
You will be remiss to bar me
from the privilege
just to kiss the puckered bud
you're pressing to your seat.