Eight ways of looking at sex

I 

Two people fused in one,
One sweaty tangle of the mind.


II
My birth, Your birth,
His birth, Her birth, Its birth,
None possible without this mirth


III
A sport, an action, a desire of a kind,
That makes me yours and makes you mine.


IV
Maybe you express love, maybe mere desire,
But it is sure to start a fire.


V 

Roses are blue; violets, red
If sex does mean love, then romance is dead.


VI

A simple connection, as you might plug your phone:
It lost all its meaning when they left your side.


VII
A laugh, a kiss, a brush of fingers;
All those are sex if tender enough.


VIII
Love and Sex are two mere puppets,
Those who draw their strings
Are the masters we will serve.