Sonnet 40 The Reply From The Tart In The Trupple Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

"Take my loves, " you say, as if we were yours to parcel out
Like cloaks whose folds which once around your torso twisted
But now lay rumpled one atop another, forgotten, no doubt,
Left to mildew and decay once your passions fashions shifted.
'
And then in all your feigned humility and grief you claim
That what I sought out for my own stolen pleasure
Had been a boon you deigned to give in your love's name
As if lifted from a chest filled with old love's treasures.

Say what you will to your truest love or in self-deceit
I know I bind you both to me in deepest shame
In your public pride, your private lies, lies your defeat
My friendly freedom with your youth is my pride reclaimed.

What is not guarded cannot be stolen, if the object holds the key
Nor can the victim claim a debt, when he himself has thieved