I love the times you call me a cunt

Though some might think it an affront

But I still bliss in knowing this:

Behind each cunt word is a kiss,

Each savage swearword hides a song

Of love to tell me I belong

Belong to the beautiful team called Us

Where there’s not disharmonious fuss

But realisation, and the fact

That our encounter was an act

Made in heaven, or something like

Where love’s in power and hate’s on strike

So, darling darling it’s no stunt

Nor are you being unfairly blunt

When you say (I love it) “cunt”