The lips I could have kissed
the skin I could have felt
the hips locked to my hips
the wonder below his belt

hair trapped in my fingers
his forehead upon mine
arms wrapped 'round to linger
on the top of my backside

hands that could have fumbled
the clothes stuck to my skin
hiding the innocence
I'd grown to confide in

had I pushed the boundary,
had I of given in,
My skin would now be cursed
with his, an aging sin.

I could never forgive
myself for that action
my body was not his
to own, then abandon.