Sonnet Lust

professing lust a dozen different ways
I stumble on a sonnet, a bit quaint
but surely suitable -- my lavish praise
knows not of moderation or restraint
you might perhaps assume I'd write an ode
that's only good for worship from afar
my hunger's of a wholly different mode
I long to be inside your boudoir
and not just boudoir, let me be blunt
a sonnet, after all, is just a means
and in my fevered mind I hear you grunt
as need takes over, mixing of the genes
a sonnet of a kind you don't expect
and promise: in the morning, still respect