Dressed

I wore the dress you brought me
The one with a sash that was to constrict all
the life in me in one title you confer me.
It is a pretty black dress indeed.
Perfect, silhouette cut from my curves
It goes down the length to the hem of my knees.
 Ah well you always thought I was a decent one.
Perhaps the black stocking wouldn't ruin it
but then you said too modest it would be. "What are you ,a nun?"
I wonder what is it that troubles you.
 My cheek and the disgrace
 that is burning in my thighs that you skirt.
Or the will of not parting them at your fanciful blurt.
Command and I shall cross my legs
 and un cross them at your brutal command.
I have a primeval role to woo you ?
 The Perhaps is my will per se.
 I did or well I may. To woo or not to.
But am I not to say...
 shall I not put my cards down and
 unfold the king to stoop to a queen
while the jacks are all at meaningless play.
Then you say"you don't gamble"
And I say of course I don't.
I  will not gamble my love away.
And the jacks will be dethroned.
I will take the king and a scotch to go,
"You are drunk?" Well now you know.
I wore the black dress you brought me,
NOW I won't wear the whites if you ask me to.
I don't.
WHY ? Black is not my shade and white isn't either.
I have given in once.Now I won't