illiciticity

I might consider

trading freedom for love,

as most days

I feel about as free

as a housecat

prowling its suburban domain,

king of the shag carpet,

whereas love

begets love, even in confinement

and no one commands

thoughts, not even a lover,

not even when mated

for life.

So let me lick my chops in peace--

seeming illicit seems delicious.

 

This illicit ditty is vaguely responsive to my own prompt over at Real Toads: Freedom for Love