Forgive me.
When I drove you home,
the peach fuzz on your dimples,
your lithe limbs fresh from practice,
your grecian forehead,
your long curly hair,
your quiet, earnest soul
made a lobster of me
caught boiling in my own blood.
I tried to hide it.
I felt the flames of my religion
melting away from me.
And the most cowardly sin
I may have ever done
is to ham-handedly deny
your tender and innocent maidenhood
undid me.