Inner Thighs Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I told you the truth.
And, in answer
to your question,
it is the inside
of your thighs,
that turns me on,
much more than
anything in life.
I do quite like
your eyes
your breasts
your hair,
your collagen.
And, read my lips:
I do love you,
YES, I can say it
LOUDER.
OKAY, I WILL,
yes, now.

Don't call me that,
I do have feelings,
I did say thighs,
not you-know-what,
WHAT?
Dammit, not true
I do like it
a LOT,
it is so...
well, give me
a tiny second,
I am no expert
in this, but yes,
you are correct,
you're not the first.
A past?
Are you implying
it was sordid,
no, surely not,
and just because
I am no expert
on those, well
you do -know-whats.
Why are you now
getting upset,
I'm being honest,
truthful you know
and realistic.
We had agreed to
tell the truth.
No, please don't cry,
I'll tell you what,
I really, truly, and no joke,
I do love every teensie,
and weensie bit and
every nook and cranny,
or better crevice
and there is nothing
I don't adore about you,
do you hear me?

Now that is better,
a little smile, well I just
love it when you're happy.
So can I now, that this is solved
kiss both your inner thighs?
What is it now? I did not use
those words like teensie, weensie,
at all, at all, well not like this.
Yes, they are plenty big,
and, no, they neither hang nor droop.
I never said that, they are scrumptious,
listen sweetheart, listen please,
love of my life, I need to tell you,
no longer can I keep this to myself,
It must be said, you are so perfect,
and there is no one reaching up to you.

Well, thanks I had considered saying this
in the beginning of our little talk.
So, let me take your lovely, perfect pantyhose
and any other useless garments off your perfect body.