let's not call it that

there are a lot
of things i won't
do, but few will
i not do for you.
i'm under your spell.
but don't get me
wrong. i'm not
in love, let's call
it something else.
sex slave, okay,
that's too crazy.
what if my mother
read that, what
would she think
if she thought
that i was someone's
sex slave. she'd
imagine me in chains
and shackles,
in a dark dungeon
being fed bread
water on an
infrequent basis.
being ferried around
in a windowless van
from house to house.
she'd have no idea
of the icecream
we'd be consuming.