Please, Sir - poem 4 (abroad, at sea)

Please, sir, may I have my friend back?
I know it sounds odd, but she'll only miss me.
We were team mates, see?
Perfect symmetry. Poetry.
We would connect like telepathy.
She stops the crowd having a go at me.

But I played too rough and now she's off.
I grew down. Told her stuff.
Wiped up tears with my sleeve and cuff.
Should've. But really shouldnt've.

Please, Mister, can I have my friend back?
I know she'll forgive all those guilty sins
and the ridges of my fingertips leaving long prints on soft skin.

I'll do it proper this time.
Won't make a balls of this. Won't fold her,
hold her, tease, tickle, kiss...
Unless she cries, then she'll decide.

Oh Mister can I?
I'll do it right this time.
Promise.

.