fresh pale delicate skin
just waiting, begging to be held
perfect shape, perfect taste
Warm blood flowing just beneath
little cuts just deep enough
You wimper, I smile
You shiver, I quake
The anticipation growing
Thy life draining
The dull look of your eyes asking why?
The grey skin covered in my writting
Blue partched lips speak pleasures no more
Frozen in time
bare hands placed on thy neck
total control
Tighening ever so slightly
moving just right
Nice and slow, rough and brutal
Filling the need
Final release, pure ecsasty
The final Kiss
No more will breath fill my plaything
The Patient Lover |
Submission Name: My Plaything
